


A sky we can make ours

by UnityoftheAbyss



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missing Scenes, Or Is It?, Post-Canon Fix-It, Romantic Comedy, Sandalphon-centric, Seriously it's not what you think, Suggestive Themes, but no actual sexytimes, maybe? - Freeform, questionable headcanons about how archangel physiology works
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2020-03-07 16:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 62,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18876871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnityoftheAbyss/pseuds/UnityoftheAbyss
Summary: Under a kinder sky, Lucifer is brought back post-000 and joins the crew of the Grandcypher. Reunited and eager to make up for lost time, he and Sandalphon get up to some… shenanigans. What’s really going on between these two archangels?Missing scenes from pre-wmtsb days in the garden, the main timeline, and beyond. Snapshots of new adventures together as they learn what it means to live in the world as people. Moments that didn’t happen, couldn't happen, and will not happen, but we all wish they did.And sometimes, all it takes is a wish.





	1. Prank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheese Slap Prank [Gone wrong] [GONE SEXUAL]

Gran shifts his legs, trying to get comfortable. They have been waiting for nearly ten minutes and his right leg has fallen asleep.

“Shhh!” Djeeta hisses. “He has super hearing, he might notice us!”

Gran rolls his eyes. “He’s not even here yet,” he whispers back. However, he doesn’t move again, despite the painful pins and needles shooting through his leg. This closet is not nearly spacious enough for both him and Djeeta. Oh, the things he will do for the sake of pride. However, no physical pain will stop him from winning this prank war for him and Djeeta’s team.

Suddenly, voices sound from down the hall. Djeeta shoots him a look that says _Don’t fuck this up_ , and he sticks his tongue out at her. Nevertheless, he holds still, his hand gripping the slice of cheese tightly. Across from him, Djeeta also holds a similar flat slice of cheese. The ultimate prank: slapping unsuspecting crew members in the face with pieces of cheese.

The voices get closer. They are right outside the door.

It seems like they are going to be killing two birds with one stone, or more specifically, cheese-slapping two archangels in one go.

The door opens and their next victims enter.

“Come on in, we shouldn’t be disturbed in here,” Sandalphon says.

Gran has to suppress the urge to snicker at that. _Oh, if only you knew what was in store_.

The sounds of two pairs of boots entering and a door clicking shut behind them carries over from beyond the closet door.

“Ah, I apologize for the condition of my quarters. The Captains say I still have much to learn about interior decorating,” are Sandalphon’s next words.

Across from him, Djeeta nods emphatically, and Gran finds himself agreeing with her. Even after three years together, Sandalphon’s room is still quite sparse. Aside from some journals and a sad vase of wilting flowers, there usually was not much in terms of personal items inside. Especially since his clothes and armor were apparently crafted from magic or something, he doesn’t even have those filling up the empty space.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Lucifer replies. “My current room is no better. Perhaps we can learn about skydweller customs of decoration together.”

Gran has to suppress a laugh. He hasn’t known Lucifer all that long, but that was such a _Lucifer_ thing to say. Always clueless about the skydwellers, but eager to learn even the most mundane of things. He hopes that Lucifer’s presence will be able to help finally draw Sandalphon all the way out of his shell.

“Of course! I’d like that a lot! I shall traverse this obstacle by your side!” Sandalphon gasps. Gran can imagine the determined posture he strikes, back straight and fists clenched by his sides. It’s easy to forget because of how human he seems most of the time, but he is also a bumbling primal who struggles to understand and properly react to anything skydweller-related. Gran supposes he and Djeeta can look forward to helping some clueless angels learn how to decorate in the near future. That is, if they forgive them for what they are about to do.

Gran meets Djeeta’s eyes across the dim closet. Any moment now, the perfect opportunity will arrive to leap out of the closet and prank some of the ship’s oldest and most powerful crew members.

_Three..._

“Anyhow, if you’re still up for it, shall we get on with what we _really_ came here for?” Sandalphon’s voice sounds strange. Does he usually pitch his voice that low and throatily at the ends of his sentences?

_Two…_

“Of course.” the bed creaks with the sounds of two bodies settling upon it. Wait, wasn’t Sandalphon’s bed only sized for one person?

_One…_

There is a rustling sound and the fluttering of large wings, before a soft half-sigh half-moan carries out across the air.

“Oh Sandalphon, that feels… _wonderful_ ,” comes Lucifer’s languid sigh.

_Go…?_

Gran chokes and has to suppress his spluttering coughs. He doesn’t think he’s _ever_ heard Lucifer sound like _that_. He shoots a look at Djeeta. She already has her hand on the door, ready to fling it open so that they can surprise the two unsuspecting archangels, but she too, now crouches frozen in place.

“Already? But I’ve barely even started,” Is the surprised reply.

There is more rustling and a soft partially stifled gasp.

“Does that feel good? If you like it, I can keep going. _I’ll make you feel even better_ ,” Sandalphon’s voice _definitely_ sounds at least an octave lower, and it falls into a velvety purr that sends tingles going up _Gran’s_ spine.

“Yes, just like that,” Lucifer murmurs, sounding slightly breathless. “Ah-!”

“Don’t worry about being quiet,” Sandalphon says. “We’re alone here. I won’t hold back either,” the last words come out as a husky whisper that has the heat rushing to Gran’s ears.

Face burning, he catches Djeeta’s eye. He sees that she has a similar look on her face, equal parts shock and mortification, and perhaps a bit of confused arousal. It surely must be a mirror of his own expression. It couldn’t be… surely they hadn’t chosen to hide out in Sandalphon’s closet right as he and Lucifer had decided to- to- he really doesn’t want to finish that thought.

Lucifer lets out a sound that definitely sounds a lot like a moan. “Sandalphon…”

“Lucifer-sama, you’re so beautiful like this,” Sandalphon rasps. “And you’re so sensitive… I don’t remember you being this responsive back in the garden…”

“Ah, well, it _has_ been quite a while since- ah!” Lucifer’s soft utterance is cut off by another gasp. “Wait, not so roughly, my body isn’t used to this yet.”

“I’m sorry Lucifer-sama! I got too eager. It’s just… it’s been so _long_ since we could do this,” Sandalphon sounds more normal when he apologizes, but his tone is still far too deep and sensual to be mistaken for his regular voice.

Just what are they- are they really-?! _We need to get out of here_ , Gran thinks desperately. But there is no way they can burst out of the closet now, not when they don’t know what they might see upon opening the oaken doors. Besides, even the gentle Lucifer might not forgive them for stumbling in on something so private, if they managed to survive the wrath that Sandalphon would surely wreak upon them. He has a feeling not even their powers as Singularities would save them from a terrible fate.

Is there really no way to escape? Are they going to have to listen to Sandalphon and Lucifer….?

“Please, don’t call me Lucifer-sama now. Not when we are currently equals, and not when we are… like this,” Lucifer’s voice carries over to where Gran and Djeeta crouch, frozen. “Now let me...” The bed creaks with the weight of  shifting bodies.

“No wait, but I’m not done with yours yet,”  Sandalphon protests.

“Nonsense,” Lucifer murmurs. “I’ve allowed myself to be bereft for 2000 years, waiting for this. Let’s finish together.” There is another rustle of feathers.

Sandalphon lets out a loud groan.

“Oh? It seems like I’m not the only one who is sensitive,” Lucifer teases playfully. “You’ve grown so well over the years, Sandalphon,” his voice caresses the air between them. “You truly are the more beautiful of the two of us…”

Through another moan, Sandalphon forces out a hoarse reply, “Now who is talking nonsense? As though I could ever compare to your radiance, Lucifer-sa- _Lucifer,_ ” the last words are a breathy exhale. The temperature of the room seems to rise to a hundred degrees, the air heavy with the crackling tension between the two angels.

“Sandalphon, you-” Lucifer doesn’t get to finish his sentence, as his voice is cut off by a sharp intake of breath. “Ah, wait, you’re-” The frame of the bed creaks loudly.

“ _Yes_ , Lucifer, you feel so _good_.” Sandalphon’s tone is downright worshipful. The rustling gets louder and faster. The sound of wings fluttering fills the room. “But did you really mean it when you said you’ve been waiting for 2000 years? I mean, obviously when I was imprisoned in Pandemonium, I didn’t have time- I couldn’t- but surely you would have- after all this time- I mean, with someone else-Ahh!” whatever he had been trying to say is broken off by a throaty gasp.

“No. I didn’t want to do this with anyone else. I’ve been waiting all this time for _you_ , Sandalphon. _My solace_.”

“Lucifer- _my guiding light_ -”

“Sandalphon-”

“Lucifer-!”

Gran covers his ears and resigns himself to his fate.

* * *

Sandalphon’s body feels hot and sweaty with exertion. He closes his eyes and breathes in deep, allowing Lucifer’s sweet scent to calm his racing heart. He opens his eyes to look down at Lucifer, to admire the handiwork he has wrought. Lucifer looks absolutely _divine_ , sprawled out on the mattress beneath him, his serene demeanor completely wrecked. His normally porcelain pale cheeks are colored with a slight flush, making him look softer and more alive than ever. His hair is in disarray, framing his head against the pillow like a silvery halo. Just as beautiful as the sight of his sprawled form are the glorious white wings spread out behind him. Every single feather, from the stark white primaries, to the rose gold secondaries, to the primary and secondary coverts blushing pink like the dawn sky; every feather is arranged in perfect harmony with the others.

Sandalphon turns to look at his own brown wings at his back. Each feather is neatly aligned with the next, not a single plume sits out of place. He gives an experimental flutter. It feels wonderful. His wings haven’t felt this pleasantly relaxed for millennia. He smiles, a genuine, satisfied smile. When he turns back to meet Lucifer’s eyes, he sees his smile returned. Indescribable warmth blossoms in his chest.

“What shall we do now?” Lucifer asks from below him. He seems content to just lay there and stare up at Sandalphon.

As much as Sandalphon is tempted to join him and press himself against Lucifer’s side, he also feels restless. Such well-arranged wings that they both have right now, they need to show them off a bit at least. Perhaps even go for a fly to stretch them a bit. Surely it would feel _incredible_ to fly right now, with his feathers organized so perfectly by Lucifer’s own hands. And he _has_ to see what Lucifer’s wings that he had touched look like framed against the clear blue sky.

And if their feathers so happened to become disordered again, well, that only meant that they would have to do this again, and he is sure Lucifer would have no objections to such an occurrence. Reluctantly, and eagerly, he extricates himself from the sheets and stands up. He holds out a hand to help Lucifer up. “Shall we head up above? I’m itching to go flying with you today, and perhaps afterwards, a cup of coffee on the upper deck?” he suggests. He feels a warm smile tugging at his lips.

Lucifer returns the smile and takes his proffered hand. Once he has risen from the bed, he doesn’t let go, which Sandalphon is more than okay with. They head out the door together, hand-in-hand, wings brushing against one another. As they make their way down the hall, Sandalphon finds himself unable to stop shooting tender looks and bright smiles in Lucifer’s direction. Luckily, Lucifer seems to be filled with just as much elation, and when Sandalphon squeezes his hand and leans into him, he finds the gesture returned with just as much fervor.

The cool wind that brushes through his feathers as they step on deck _does_ feel heavenly. He hasn’t felt like this in over 2000 years. Lucifer’s contented sigh from beside him tells him that he feels the same. After all, they had long been overdue for a good preening session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm @Unitywastaken on Twitter if you want to scream at me about angelboyes.


	2. Preening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The other side.

“Lucifer-sama, is something the matter?” Sandalphon asks curiously. They had just gotten back from a mission with the rest of the crew, and ever since then, Lucifer had kept giving him strange, poorly concealed looks. He had tried to look over himself, but he can't see anything wrong with his form. He hadn’t been injured at all during the battle, so there was no reason for Lucifer to be concerned. However, it had been the first time they had fought together since Etemenanki. No… could it be… it couldn’t be that his old sadistic tendencies had shown through in his fighting?! He is sure he had left that part of him behind since his imprisonment in the cradle. He doesn’t get pleasure from causing pain to others anymore… and even if he did, he would be sure to thoroughly suppress such deviant inclinations while he is with Lucifer.

Lucifer blinks, seemingly caught off guard by Sandalphon’s question. He hesitates for a beat too long before replying, seeming to struggle with what he is about to say.

Sandalphon’s core thrums nervously as he waits for Lucifer to speak his thoughts.

“It’s nothing of great concern, but during the battle I noticed...”

Sandalphon swallows. Dread pools in his stomach. _Nonononono-!_

“... your wings-forgive me if this is intrusive, but you haven’t preened in a while have you?”

“I-” _don’t enjoy sadism_ _anymore-_ “Wait, what?” he blinks. He instinctively looks over his shoulder at where his wings would be, despite the fact that he doesn’t have them out anymore. He wants to summon them to check, but he is afraid of what they will look like to Lucifer if he does. He honestly does not know when the last time he preened them was. He rubs his shoulder self-consciously. “Ah, you’re observation is correct, of course. I apologize if their disheveled state offends you, I’ll take care of that immediately when we get back.” His face burns with shame. Obviously he hadn’t had time to take care of himself in Pandemonium, and after 2000 years, he had grown used to disorderly wings. Plus, with all that had been going on these past few years, and the sheer number of wings he now had, it was easy to neglect the care of his own feathers. He had of course taken great pains to make sure the Supreme Primarch’s wings were in top condition, especially in the months following his ascension, and the wings he had received from the four primarchs had been provided to him well-groomed. But… his own wings… he summoned them so sparingly that it hadn’t seemed worth the effort, nor had it particularly crossed his mind to spend time preening them. It was not like the mortals knew what well-cared-for wings looked like anyway, and his fellow former residents of Pandemonium, Azazel and Olivia, were not much better than he. But now that Lucifer is here… he should have taken more care to make himself presentable.

“No, no, I didn’t mean to imply they looked anything less lovely than usual,” Lucifer protests.

 _Lovely?_ Sandalphon’s core is suddenly stuttering for a completely different reason. It is ridiculous how easily any small gesture from Lucifer sends his emotional capacities reeling. Really, if he had an actual heart, he would think this would be bad for its health.

“I simply thought, perhaps, would you be interested in allowing me to preen you?” Lucifer asks. “You are free to refuse, of course. I just thought, it seems like it has been a while for both of us… perhaps we could both take care of each other. It would be just like it was back in the gardens.”

Sandalphon feels his breath catch. Could he really? Even with his murderer’s hands could he … touch Lucifer again? To feel Lucifer’s power caress him as though he were still as pure and untainted as he had been back in those days in the gardens… that would be pure bliss. Is he worthy of such a blessing? Although he has done his best to make amends, he knows better than to think that merely undoing the mess he had started would be enough to atone for his infractions. He reflexively clenches his fists. These hands of his and his very soul itself will be forever steeped in sin.

He looks back up at Lucifer. The other angel gazes back at him. His brows are slightly furrowed, as though he is puzzling out a particularly challenging enigma, but there is no hostility or disappointment in his expression as he looks at Sandalphon. Despite everything that had happened, Lucifer had still seen fit to forgive Sandalphon. Doused from head to toe with the pitch-black sludge of villainy, and yet Lucifer had seen someone worth saving. Someone worth loving.

Sandalphon swallows down his insecurity and self-hatred like acrid bile in his throat. _You called me your solace. You came back to me from beyond the veil_. Perhaps, this time, he could set aside his own feelings of inferiority and allow himself to trust in Lucifer’s judgement. If Lucifer deems him worthy, then perhaps he should give himself the benefit of the doubt. Plus, Lucifer had said he was in need of preening as well, so Sandalphon couldn’t disappoint him. Just as he is about to reply, Lucifer speaks again.

“Nevermind, perhaps it was foolish of me to request such a thing. A great deal has happened since the gardens after all,” he bears a bittersweet smile as he says this. It seems Sandalphon has taken too long to muster up a reply.

 _NO!_ “No, wait!” Sandalphon gasps. He can’t let this opportunity slip away, not when he has finally made up his mind. Without thinking, he grabs Lucifer’s hand. “I would love to for you to preen me, and I you!” he blurts out, face burning.

Lucifer seems surprised but not displeased at Sandalphon’s sudden outburst. He smiles and gives Sandalphon’s hand a small squeeze. “Are you sure? If you feel uncomfortable, or you don’t feel ready, just say so. I don’t want to force you to do anything.”

Sandalphon shakes his head vehemently. “No. I want this.” _I want this so much. Now that you’ve offered me this temptation, I don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t have it_. His heart thuds rapidly in his chest.

Lucifer smiles softly at him. “I’m glad,” he murmurs. He closes his eyes and shifts his shoulders.

Sandalphon realizes he is about to summon his wings. “Lucifer-sama, wait.” He glances around the ship. There are still quite a few people on deck around them. He knows that out here he and Lucifer will only be interrupted by nosy skydwellers.

Lucifer stops, blinking curiously at Sandalphon.

“We should head somewhere more… private to do this,” Sandalphon says, inclining his head to indicate all the people around him.

“Oh, of course,” Lucifer agrees. “It seems I was so eager that I forgot my surroundings for a moment,” he chuckles. “Did you have some place in mind?”

Sandalphon’s already pounding heart rattles against his ribcage. Lucifer had forgotten where they were because of _him?_ “W-we can use my room,” he stammers. “It’s not far from this side of the ship,” he adds, remembering that Lucifer has actually not been to his room at all since he joined the crew. They both currently spend all their time in the living quarters in Lucifer’s room. In fact, it had been weeks since Sandalphon had last been in his own room.

Lucifer inclines his head. “Please, lead the way.”

Sandalphon realizes that their hands are still clasped together. Lucifer has yet to show any signs of wanting to let go, so he pulls the other angel along by the hand belowdecks.

The stumble clumsily down the halls, their eagerness stripping them of their usual grace. Luckily, they don’t pass anyone who would get in their way.

“Sneaking off like this,” Lucifer breathes from near Sandalphon’s ear, almost causing him to jump. “It really is just like the gardens, isn’t it?”

Sandalphon smirks. “Indeed. Although, this time there are no meetings for you to nearly be late for,” he grins at the fond memory.

Lucifer chuckles. “So you remember that as well.”

Sandalphon opens the door and pulls Lucifer into his room. “Come on in, we shouldn’t be disturbed in here.”

He remembers too late that not having been in his room for several weeks meant that he had failed to make it more presentable before exposing it to Lucifer’s eyes. He glances back nervously at the other angel as they step inside. “Ah, I apologize for the condition of my quarters. The Captains say I still have much to learn about interior decorating...” He locks the door behind them.

 <br>

They settle down on the bed, letting their armor dissipate into the air as they do so. Sandalphon’s bed is smaller than the one in Lucifer’s room, so it is a bit of a squeeze to fit both of them on it. Lucifer lies down on his stomach, propping himself up with his elbows as he summons his radiant wings. Sandalphon kneels on the mattress behind him, feeling pleased that Lucifer remembers that he liked to be the one doing the preening first. To think, he and Lucifer had cradled the same precious memories close to their hearts all these years. The thought fills him with an overwhelming warmth. Technically, they shouldn’t need to lie down to preen each other; Sandalphon had seen many archangels preening each other quite comfortably both standing and sitting in groups around the labs. However, he had soon realized that with him and Lucifer things were… a bit different. So it was easier for them to find a comfortable and private spot. Without hesitation, he pushes his fingers into the base of Lucifer’s wings, where the feathers meet flesh. He pours his aura into the touch as he rubs his hands in broad, soothing circles, aiming to relax the muscles in Lucifer’s back before he actually gets started on the feathers. He allows himself a sigh of appreciation at the feel of the sculpted muscles beneath his hands, masking the sound with the flutter of his own wings as he summons them at his back.

“Oh Sandalphon, that feels… _wonderful._ ” Lucifer’s voice is like liquid molasses pooling in his stomach. Tingles of pleasure travel up his arms as Lucifer’s aura rises to meet his. He continues his movements, applying a bit more force to undo the knots in Lucifer’s back. The contented sounds Lucifer makes only encourages him to focus all his efforts on making this as good as possible for the other archangel. He wants to hear more of these sounds from Lucifer that are so unlike his usual unbroken calm. He aches for more evidence that _he_ is the cause of this momentary pleasure.

“Don’t worry about being quiet,” He says, running his fingers through the first row of plumes. He has finally loosened up Lucifer’s back muscles to his satisfaction and can now start on the feathers at the base. He delicately applies his magic to the first of Lucifer’s feathers to nudge them into alignment. “We’re alone here. I won’t hold back either.” _So don’t smother your voice like that anymore. This_ isn’t _the gardens. No one will punish us for indulging like this now._

It wasn’t like this with other angels. Sandalphon can’t be completely sure, having never preened with anyone other than Lucifer, but the angels in the lab’s grounds had never looked like they were feeling anything as intense as this. To them, preening was something that could be done as a casual affair between friends, possibly over some mundane conversation. He had never figured out why it seemed like it was so much more visceral for him and Lucifer. Perhaps it was because he had been born from Lucifer’s core? That seemed the most likely reason that their auras could interact like this. That had been one of the reasons he and Lucifer had needed to conceal themselves while they did this back when they were in the garden. The other being of course, that he and Lucifer would surely have been in trouble had the Supreme Primarch been caught favoring another so.

“Sandalphon…” Lucifer moans. The sound sends waves of roiling fire rushing through Sandalphon’s gut. He can sense Lucifer’s aura gathering all around him, filling him until he is ready to burst at the seams. The sensation is already overwhelming- and he has barely finished the first row of feathers. Lucifer’s body is sprawled on the bed beneath him, wings spread wide. As he turns to look over his shoulder at Sandalphon, Sandalphon can see his cheeks are ever-so-slightly flushed, and his eyes are dark, white pupils blown wide. The sight sends another arc of fire spiraling down Sandalphon’s core. “Lucifer-sama, you’re so beautiful like this,” He blurts. It seems he isn’t in full control of his tongue. “And you’re so sensitive… I don’t remember you being this responsive back in the garden…” His voice comes out raspy and breathless, as though he had just exerted himself in battle. Sandalphon thinks that somehow, this is much more exhilarating than a mere fight.

Sandalphon buries his fingers in the next row of feathers, pouring his energy into the stroke as he aligns dozens of magical plumes at once.

“Ah, well, it _has_ been quite a while since- ah!” Lucifer’s soft utterance is cut off by another gasp. “Wait, not so roughly, my body isn’t used to this yet.” Lucifer’s strong hands grip the bedsheets tightly, and Sandalphon can see that his fists tremble almost imperceptibly. It seems he is feeling just as much as Sandalphon.

Sandalphon quickly pulls his hand back and eases the amount of power he is using.  “I’m sorry Lucifer-sama! I got too eager. It’s just… it’s been so _long_ since we could do this.” He doesn’t even care anymore that his voice sounds so desperate. He feels like a man who hadn’t even known he was dying of thirst that had just been given his first sip from a sweet oasis. The air crackles with power, and the heady scent of ozone fills the room. Lucifer’s energy signature is all around him, enveloping his senses with golden light. He wants to lose himself in that light, he wants to run his fingers through those vibrant threads of essence, he wants to fracture his core into a thousand pieces so that every surface of his soul is as close to Lucifer as possible. Instead, he presses his lips against Lucifer’s feathers and drags them along, starting again from the base and working his way outward, using a small trickle of his energy to push each feather into position. This earns another soft sigh from Lucifer.

“Please, don’t call me Lucifer-sama now. Not when we are currently equals, and not when we are… like this,” he murmurs, his voice sending vibrations through Sandalphon’s chest.

 _But you’ll always be Lucifer-sama to me_!

“Now let me...” Lucifer suddenly starts to shift so that they are facing each other, dislodging Sandalphon legs somewhat. They both instinctively rearrange themselves back to equilibrium, limbs tangled together among the sheets.

Sandalphon’s core protests the temporary severing of contact with Lucifer’s aura. His lips still bear the staticky aftertaste of light magic. “No wait, I’m not done with yours yet,” he says. He had barely even finished one wing!

“Nonsense,” Lucifer murmurs. “I’ve allowed myself to be bereft for 2000 years, waiting for this. Let’s finish together.” He reaches up a hand and drags it through the base of Sandalphon’s wings, sending jolts of hot lightning reverberating through his body.

Sandalphon hears himself let out an embarrassingly loud groan as he feels Lucifer comb through his wings with scalding fingers of energy. The feathers shudder into place, feeling raw after not being cared for after so long. _Weren’t you the one who just told me to be gentle? Take a look at yourself!_ He thinks. This was indeed just like back in the gardens. It seems Lucifer still doesn’t know when to tone back his powers. _No wonder none of the other angels wanted to preen with you. It wasn’t merely because they were intimidated by your title, they probably didn’t want to get melted!_ However, he holds his tongue. If it’s Lucifer, it doesn’t matter if whether he is being gentle or too rough… it feels wonderful either way.

“Oh? It seems like I’m not the only one who is sensitive,” Lucifer teases playfully. “You’ve grown so well over the years, Sandalphon,” his voice caresses the air between them. “You truly are the more beautiful of the two of us…”

Another rush of energy crashes over him like a wave, buffeting him off his feet and wrapping him in a raging blizzard of sunlight. He feels another moan rip out of him at the intense sensation. Nevertheless, he leans in closer to Lucifer, pressing their bodies flush together, so that Lucifer can reach more of him. Amidst the cloud in his mind, he latches on to Lucifer’s words. _Call me the more beautiful? How dare you try to turn this back on me._ “Now who is talking nonsense? As though I could ever compare to your radiance, Lucifer-sa-” he corrects himself just in time “ _Lucifer._ ” He can feel Lucifer’s approval radiating through the link between their auras. He reaches behind Lucifer to finish preening his wings, carefully reaching out threads of his aura, enough to coaxe the feathers into place, but not too much that it overwhelms him.

“Sandalphon, you-” Whatever Lucifer is about to say next is cut off by a sigh of pleasure. “Ah, wait, you’re-”

Sandalphon smirks, continuing his movements. _Go ahead, try and call me beautiful again._ He runs his fingers through the next row of feathers, while sending out more of his aura. He enjoys how Lucifer’s body arches against his, deepening the touch. _I will make you feel such pleasure that you won’t be able to think, let alone come up with such preposterous notions._ He welcomes the searing tendrils of energy Lucifer sends combing through his feathers in response, reveling in the feel of their auras humming in synchrony with each other. It is getting increasingly hard to keep his thoughts straight, all of his senses overwhelmed by Lucifer’s power.

The bed creaks loudly underneath their shifting bodies, bringing some clarity to his mind. He suddenly remembers something that had caught his attention a moment ago. Lucifer had said he had been waiting for 2000 years… surely he meant just for Sandalphon, right? But the way he had said it, it sounded as though he hadn’t let anyone else do this with him either. But that couldn’t be. Lucifer was nowhere near as reclusive as Sandalphon. He enjoyed the company and touch of others. Surely he wouldn’t have deprived himself all this time in favor of waiting on Sandalphon? Any archangel would have leaped at the chance to preen the magnificent plumage of the Supreme Primarch. “But did you really mean it when you said you’ve been waiting for 2000 years? I mean, obviously when I was imprisoned in Pandemonium, I didn’t have time- I couldn’t- but surely you would have- after all this time- I mean, with someone else-Ahh!” He isn’t able finish his question as he is overwhelmed by another surge of Lucifer’s energy coursing through him. _You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? You like seeing me panting and speechless_ , he thinks, even as he sends out more tendrils of his aura to welcome Lucifer’s power. _Even so, if you really have been waiting all this time, then I’ll let you do anything you want to me_.

“No. I didn’t want to do this with anyone else. I’ve been waiting all this time for _you_ , Sandalphon. _My solace_.”

Pure elation rushes through Sandalphon at those words. “Lucifer- _my guiding light_ -” He can barely form words anymore; it is taking all he has to focus on arranging the last few primaries without completely losing himself in the flood of energy. Their connection is reaching a fever pitch. Lucifer’s essence coils around him like vice, nearly crushing the fibers of his own aura he had carefully sent out to preen his feathers. It is as though Lucifer wants to completely devour his very core. He feels another stream of energy rake through him like hot iron, and the last of his own unruly feathers slots into place. He runs his fingers over the edge of Lucifer’s wings, his own wavering threads of power drawing them gently into alignment.

“Sandalphon-”

“Lucifer-!”

As they call each other’s names into the air, he lets himself fall, giving up control completely. From below him, can feel Lucifer do the same. For a moment, the world is white hot. The air shatters around them like a million shards of crystal light. It only lasts a split second, but in that brief span of time, they burn and unravel, and all boundaries between them cease to exist. They are one and the same.

The instant passes and they return to their bodies, their cores naturally threading back together, auras separating and coalescing back within themselves. Pure euphoria pours over Sandalphon like a flood, and it is all he can do to lay against Lucifer as they both ride out the waves of sensation crashing over them. He feels Lucifer’s hand clutch at his own, and he wraps their fingers together, holding on like they are about to be washed away by the torrent.

Just when it seems like it will never end, the intensity finally tapers off, leaving both of them breathless and panting against each other. Sandalphon becomes aware of Lucifer’s hand gripping his shoulder tightly, probably hard enough to bruise. This had definitely been stronger than even those times in the garden.

“That was _incredible_ ,” Lucifer breathes, so quiet Sandalphon almost doesn’t hear him over the the sounds of their rasping breaths.

It ia all Sandalphon can do to let out a hum of agreement. He allows his body to go limp, leaning his head against Lucifer’s heaving chest. He savors the feeling of the strong and warm form beneath him.

It takes several minutes for enough strength to return to his body so that he can push himself off of Lucifer. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Headcanon: The reason the “preening” is so intense for them is cause they’re kinda doing it wrong. Since the feathers are basically made of magic, angels have to use some of their magic to preen their own or someone else’s wings. Normally, for a chill platonic preening session, one would just use a bit of energy from their core so it’s no big deal. But, Lucifer and Sandalphon are so into each other that they kinda just open their entire cores up to each other while practically throwing parts of their souls at each other, so that’s why it feels so intense for them. They do it without consciously deciding to, since they trust each other so deeply that they are able to expose their cores to each other without it setting off warning bells. It’s like the difference between someone giving a friendly pat on the back versus getting one of those deep tissue massages all over your body with all the oils and hot rocks and scented candles and everything and they’re really good at it, and while the person is also doing your favorite ASMR live directly into your ear. )


	3. Broken bed

Djeeta is dreading this upcoming mission. Not because she is worried about the actual fighting, but because she needs the help of a certain pair of archangels on this quest. Normally, she would be glad to see the two of them and to be able get them to participate in events with the rest of the crew. However, this time, seeing them again means initiating a conversation that she really would rather avoid at all costs, especially after the prank fiasco from a week ago. She hasn’t been able to look Lucifer or Sandalphon in the eye since. She and Gran had been hoping that that would be the end of the extent of their knowledge on the primarchs’ personal lives, but it seems that was too much to hope for. Apparently, Sandalphon and Lucifer were really trying to make up for lost time now, because she and Gran has gotten a storm of noise complaints from the halls all around, below, and even above Sandalphon’s room. Apparently there had been a lot of very loud thumping, and bed creaking sounds over the past week. Earlier this morning, someone had notified her and Gran of what sounded like a loud crash and glass breaking coming from that room the night before, meaning they probably had to finally deal with the two archangels. Unfortunately, she had lost her game of rock, paper, scissors to Gran, so she is the unlucky captain that has to give two 2000 plus year-old primal beasts a talk on considerate sex. She doesn’t think she has ever dreaded anything more in her entire life. 

“Captain, I need to speak with you.” 

Her throat tightens as she hears the voice of one of the objects of her distress call from behind her.  _ Well, might as well get it over with _ , she thinks. She steels herself before turning around. “I actually had something I needed to talk to you about too,” she begins. She notes with surprise that Sandalphon seems to be alone. She glances around quickly for Lucifer, but he is nowhere in sight. Obviously, they are their own people and they don’t need to be glued at the hip, but ever since Lucifer’s return it is a rare occurance to see one without the other. Maybe this is for the best. She can talk to Sandalphon alone, and he’ll probably be just as embarrassed about the topic as she is, so she can get it over with quickly. 

“Oh? Is that so? What is it then?” he asks, tipping his head to the side. 

“Um-”  _ Wait shit, I’m not ready-  _ “Actually, you can go first. You came to me first, after all,” she says, laughing nervously. 

He gives her a strange look, but doesn’t question her oddness. Instead, an embarrassed look crosses over his face, and he suddenly looks like he would rather be anywhere but here.  _ That makes two of us, buddy _ . Although, now she is genuinely concerned as to what the problem could be. Sandalphon almost never came to her or any of the crewmembers for assistance, so if he was worried, it might be something serious.

“Here.” He takes out something he had been holding at his side and thrusts it towards Djeeta. 

Surprised, Djeeta automatically lifts her hand to take it. It is a bag of money, likely earned from Sandalphon’s efforts in past quests. She peers at him, curiously. He is standing stiffly, fists clenched at his sides and refusing to meet her eyes. A slight blush colors his face. “...what is this for?” she asks, a bit afraid of the answer. 

He grimaces. “That should be enough to cover replacing the bed. In my quarters.” he grits out. 

Oh.  _ Oh. So that’s what the “loud crash” was, huh,  _ She thinks.  She sighs. At least this will make segueing into their next topic of conversation easier, at least. But wait…. She hefts the bag of coins in her hand. “This is way more than enough for just the cost of a bed. I know you probably still don’t have the hang of skydweller money yet, but you’re going to need to take some of this back.” she informs him. 

His frown somehow deepens and he crosses his arms tightly in front of his chest. “It’s not just for the bed. There also should be enough in there for the dresser… and the wall… and the window…”

Djeeta’s face burns as she tries not to imagine what could have possibly gone on in that room to cause such damage. “Um, okay, we’ll get that taken care of. Anyway, about that-”

“Captain? Sandalphon?” A voice says from behind her. 

_ Oh great, now they’re both here _ . She turns to see Lucifer standing behind her. She notices that he is also holding what looks like a bag of currency. 

“It seems you and I had the same idea,” Lucifer observes, nodding at the bag that Sandalphon had just given Djeeta. 

Sandalphon gapes at him. “Lucifer-sama, I told you that I would take care of the repairs for the room! You needn’t have concerned yourself with it. The damage was all my fault, after all.” 

Lucifer frowns. “But I was the one who initiated the actions that led to the damage in the first place, so the responsibility falls on my shoulders,” he argues, somehow sounding just as insistent despite his mellow tone. 

Sandalphon shakes his head. “You may have made the suggestion, but I went along with it, so I am equally to blame on that front. Besides, I was the one who should have been aware that skydweller furnishings are far too fragile for the likes of us.” 

Lucifer refuses to budge. “My ignorance does not excuse the hand I had in the consequences of our actions, so I will take responsibility.” He turns to Djeeta, who had been looking back and between the two archangels as they argued. “Please take this instead of Sandalphon’s currency. It should cover the costs of the broken bed, dresser, wall, and window,” he says gently, holding the bag out towards Djeeta. 

Sandalphon rushes over and shoves his arm in front of Djeeta, barring her from reaching for Lucifer’s bag. “Need I remind you that it was  _ my  _ body that broke the bed and  _ my _ foot that burst through the wall, and  _ my  _ hand that smashed through the window? Therefore, the blame lies on me, so I will pay for the repairs of  _ my  _ room,” he says in measured tones.

Lucifer continues to try to reach his arm past Sandalphon’s body to hand the bag to Djeeta. “And it was  _ I  _ who pushed you onto the bed and drove you against the walls and the window with enough force to cause them to break, so I am, in fact, the one to blame. And by your logic, you admit the breaking of the dresser was my fault because it was my body that caused it to collapse.”

Sandalphon sputters, “But I pushed you into the dresser and- ugh, this is utter nonsense! Captain, I have already provided you with the funds for repairs, so just take them and use them to mend the room.” He and Lucifer continue to grapple with the bag of money between them. 

“Um, how about I just take both of those and split the cost between you two equally?” Djeeta suggests when it seems like neither of them are going to budge. She also really does  _ not  _ want to hear more about  _ how _ exactly they had broken most of the furniture in the room because she is already getting a very inappropriate mental image, and she also doesn’t want to take sides and give them more reasons to argue about it in front of her in the future.

“I will accept those conditions if you do as well,” Lucifer calls. He throws the bag past Sandalphon’s shoulder and into Djeeta’s open hand. “Although I still believe I should accept liability for the damage.”

_ Ouch, don’t throw so hard! _ She has to keep herself from letting out a yelp when the sack of metal smacks painfully against her palm.

“Fine,” Sandalphon growls, as he looks between Djeeta and Lucifer and sees that he has been outmaneuvered. He lets go of Lucifer’s arm. “Now what was it you wanted to talk to me about, Captain?”

Djeeta groans internally at being reminded of the distasteful task at hand. Well, they were already talking about it, quite shamelessly, she notes, so she might as well get on with it. “About the uh,  _ things  _ you two have been doing that caused the broken furniture,” she makes some vague gestures with her hands, hoping that this will be enough for them to understand without needing her to elaborate, “There have been a bunch of noise complaints from around Sandalphon’s room this past week so if you two could ah, try to be more  _ quiet _ in the future….”

Sandalphon and Lucifer exchange a look which Djeeta recognizes as bearing a strong resemblance to the  _ oh shit _ look she often shares with Gran. 

“Ah, we’re very sorry about that… I thought we were being quiet enough,” Lucifer begins, expression a bit sheepish, which is a rather strange look on the usually serene former Supreme Primarch.

“This has been going on for a  _ week?! _ ” Sandalphon is the exact opposite, eyes wide and mouth twisted in disbelief. A slight flush spreads across his face. “Why didn’t you let us know earlier? Do you think I want people listening in on us?!”

“It was only a few times over the week! Just people complaining of a lot of thumping noises and then the crashing from last night. Plus, I haven’t seen you all week!”  _ Let’s ignore the fact that I’ve been specifically avoiding you two all week so I wouldn’t have to think about that time I hid in your closet and listened to you two- _

“Ugh,” Sandalphon grimaces. Djeeta feels kind of bad for him. He and Lucifer had finally reunited after 2000 years of suffering; if anyone deserved to make up for lost time, it would probably be them. It would suck to have one’s privacy invaded, especially for someone as reclusive as Sandalphon. She tries not to think about the fact that _she_ was one of the ones that had actually violated their privacy, quite thoroughly. 

“Just, uh, make sure to be more quiet in the future,” she adds, delicately. 

Sandalphon frowns and sighs heavily. “Alright.” He glances at Djeeta out of the side of his eye. “Uh, please give the crew members who complained our apologies for the noise, I suppose,” he says, reluctantly. 

“Yeah, sure.”   _ Don’t worry, I’m not doing that. _

“Now that that’s taken care of, let’s get ready for the mission then.” He and Lucifer begin to walk away to join the other crew members waiting on deck. 

As Djeeta watches them go, she suddenly remembers another thing that she and Gran had been concerned about. She doesn’t know if this is an issue for primals, but… she hasn’t seen Lucifer or Sandalphon shop for any… supplies that might be conducive to their… activities. She shudders. She definitely making  _ Gran _ have that talk with them. Speaking of her traitor brother, he now comes ambling in from below deck with a sheepish grin on his face.

“Come to finally join us, brother dearest?” Djeeta asks spittingly, hitting him with her best evil eye. 

“How’d the talk with Sandals and Lucifer go?” he shoots back, earning him a grumpy grunt from Djeeta. “Also, what’s with the bags?” he points bemusedly at the two bags that Djeeta holds in her hands. 

She shoves one of them roughly into Gran’s arms and stuffs the other in her backpack. “They’re from Sandy and Lucifer. Apparently, they wanted to pay for breaking the bed and dresser, and punching a hole in the window and wall,” she says dryly, listing off the damage on her fingers. Gran’s eyebrows raise higher and higher with each addition. 

“Wow. Guess we should be thankful they didn’t get that crazy when we were hiding in their closet, huh?” 

Djeeta grimaces. “I thought we weren’t speaking of that anymore.” She doesn’t even want to entertain any thoughts of what might have happened if Lucifer and Sandalphon had managed to barrel into the closet and expose their hiding spot. 

Chuckling, Gran follows her as she makes her way to the dock where their team awaits their guide for this quest. For this mission, they are heading deep into the mountains, so they had needed to hire a tour guide to help them make it through. She and Gran introduce themselves as the Captains, and then proceed to let their eyes glaze over as the guide goes on a lengthy explanation of safety procedures for this trek. 

Letting the guide’s voice turn into white noise, she instead listens in on the conversations between her teammates, who are also paying as much attention as she is to the rambling guide. She notices that Sandalphon and Lucifer are slightly off to the side of the group, talking among themselves just loudly enough for her to overhear. 

“Now I’m constantly going to be worried that someone will hear us,” Sandalphon mutters. Djeeta’s face heats up. Oh gods, they’re talking about  _ that _ still. She shoots a glance at Gran, and sees him standing stock still with an equally flushed face. 

“We just need to take care to be more quiet don’t we? Although, I admit I am not partial to the idea of you suppressing your voice.” Lucifer chuckles fondly. “I rather like hearing what I do to you…” 

“N-Nonsense! You-!” Sandalphon sputters. He then lets out a flustered sigh. “I suppose, you do have a point of course. I enjoy hearing you not hold back either….” 

_ Guys, we can hear you! _ Djeeta thinks, her face burning. She tries to stop listening, but she can’t help but keep overhearing what they are saying.  _ Think of something else, lalalalala-! _

“Perhaps we can try leaving the ship to do it?” Sandalphon suggests. 

“Oh, you mean like doing it in the sky?” Lucifer asks. 

There is a shocked gasp. “We can do it  _ in the sky?!  _ As in,  _ while flying? _ ” Sandalphon whisper-yells. 

“Well, admittedly, I’ve never tried it myself, but Gabriel and Michael tell me they do it like that often,” 

Djeeta chokes. She can hear Gran coughing beside her.  _ Gabriel and Michael?  _ Well, honestly, that wasn’t that much of a surprise, she could have seen that from a mile away, but as curious as she is about the primarchs, she really didn’t need to hear about this part of their lives. 

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to though, it was merely a suggestion.” Lucifer continues. “Admittedly, I’m quite curious what it would be like…”

“I-I suppose we could try it if you want to,” Sandalphon stammers. “Although, I don’t know if I’ll be able to focus on flying while we’re-” luckily, he cuts off before saying whatever comes next. 

“Oh no, you don’t have to force yourself to do anything you’re not comfortable with, Sandalphon. I don’t know what it will be like either,” Lucifer demures.

_ Please hurry up and finish speaking _ . Djeeta mentally begs the guide. Her prayer goes unanswered. 

“I’m comfortable with anything if it’s with you,” Sandalphon says, his voice so honey-sweet and indulgent that Djeeta gets second-hand butterflies in her stomach. It seems Sandalphon really could be surprisingly suave when he wanted to be. Her face must surely be as red as a pomegranate right now. She glances at Gran, and yep, he looks like Captain tomato right now. Curse their pasty genes.

“And I, you,” Lucifer replies just as indulgently. “Did you have somewhere in mind? Off the ship?”

“All I could think of was heading to an uninhabited island… it wouldn’t be as comfortable as doing it on a bed though…” 

Lucifer chuckles. “Well, we made do back in the garden, didn’t we? We didn’t have a bed to do it on back then, either.”

Gran starts coughing uncontrollably beside her. Djeeta has to fight to keep from joining him.  _ Oooookaaay.  _ Now  _ that _ was a new piece of information. So Sandalphon and Lucifer weren’t a new thing? She had thought for sure they had literally spent the last several thousand years densely pining after each other. Honestly, she’s starting to get invested in this conversation, despite the fact that she is boiling alive from the awkwardness and is definitely being a bad Captain for violating her crewmembers’ privacy.

“Those were extenuating circumstances!” Sandalphon protests. “Now that we have nothing to be afraid of, your comfort is of utmost concern to me!” he insists. “Perhaps if we carry a mattress and blankets with us… or we could do it with you on top…”

Now it is Djeeta’s turn to go down in a storm of coughing and choking. The guide lecturing them gives her a concerned look, but somehow manages to continue monologuing without pause while she shakes her head to indicate that she is not actively dying. Gran pounds her roughly on the back as she struggles to catch her breath. 

“Sandalphon, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable either. You shouldn’t place my comfort over your own. I’ve never been bothered by where we do it, as long as it is with you,” Lucifer says, his words just as sweet as Sandalphon’s from a moment ago. 

“There’s no need to worry about me, being against the ground doesn’t bother me at all!” Sandalphon insists. “Besides,” he adds in a dry tone, “you didn’t seem particularly concerned with my comfort when you put my hand through the window last night.”

“Sandalphon! I’m deeply sorry about that…” 

“No, don’t apologize! I wasn’t hurt at all! I merely meant that in jest!” Sandalphon immediately gasps, “It seems the Captains’ bizarre skydweller humor has rubbed off on me. They never cease to remind me of the words I spoke to them before trying to end them during the cataclysms…” Sandalphon sounds so disgruntled at this that Djeeta actually lets out a snort. She can hear Gran stifling his own laughter from beside her. “In any case, come to think of it, there are various primals and magic-using skydwellers aboard this ship. Perhaps it would be easiest to see if any of them can create some sort of silencing charm for us.”

“Ah, that does sound like a good idea. Although, I wouldn’t have minded experimenting with doing it in different places with you…”

“-so any questions Captains?” The voice of the guide suddenly brings Djeeta back to the task at hand. 

“Uh, nope, we’re good! Let’s get going!” Gran immediately rushes in. 

_ Good save, bro.  _ Djeeta thinks. She and Gran proceed to trip over themselves to make a big deal of leading the group on their quest, as far away as possible from Lucifer and Sandalphon in case they accidentally overhear something they shouldn’t again.


	4. Lava tag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandalphon and Lucifer learn a skydweller game.

When Lucifer and Sandalphon arrive on the deck of the Grandcypher that afternoon, it is much busier than usual. There seems to be a large gathering of people on the upper deck. They are doing some sort of activity in which they chase each other around while leaping across various mats and other surfaces scattered haphazardly about the floor.

“Sandalphon, what is it they are doing?” Lucifer asks, gesturing at the ruckus on board.

“I’m not sure. It seems like they’re playing some sort of skydweller game.”

 A voice from behind them pipes up. “Looks like they’re playing point tag, with a bit of a twist. They’ve combined it with the floor is lava.” They turn to see the speaker is the skydweller soldier Eugen.

“Point tag? The floor is lava?” Lucifer repeats, cocking his head to the side, a pondering expression on his face.

“Point tag is a game based off of a martial arts training exercise. Basically, you have one part of your body that is your weak spot that you have to protect from other people tagging you. The floor is lava is a game where you pretend the floor is lava, and you have to travel around without touching the ground,” Eugen explains.

“I see, so it is a game that trains the players in combat strategy and agility. They have to account for multiple enemies and take advantage of their environment at the same time. How efficient,” Lucifer muses.

“Of course!” Sandalphon gasps. “I initially thought it was a mere game, but you immediately saw the true nature of such an activity and applied a clear-cut analysis. As expected of our former Supreme Primarch!” he comments, impressed. Although he has thus far managed as the new Supreme Primarch, it seems he still has much to learn from Lucifer.

“Uhh, I don’t think that’s really-” whatever Eugen is about to say is cut off as Lyria runs over to the two archangels.

“Sandalphon! Lucifer! A bunch of the crew is playing Lava tag! We’re about to start a new round, so want to join us?” she beams at them, looking hopefully between them both.

“Oh forget it, Lyria!” Vyrn flutters over. “Grumpyphon probably is going to say no anyways. He probably just wants to sit around and write poetry.”

Sandalphon bristles. Normally, he wouldn’t be offended by such an assessment considering he usually preferred to forego the overly-boisterous activities of the crew in favor of relaxing alone, but this time he had specifically come on deck so he could observe Lucifer interacting with the crew, and possibly facilitate introductions if need be. He can’t say he appreciates being dismissed when he has actively decided to make an effort, if only for Lucifer’s sake.

“Yeah, but Lucifer will join us, right? And he can convince Sandalphon!” Lyria continues, not in the least deterred. “It’ll be fun and we all want you guys to join, so won’t you play with us?” she asks Lucifer.

“Yes, that sounds wonderful,” Lucifer says graciously.

Sandalphon can see the curiosity and eagerness practically radiating out from him. All at once, he feels a rush of affection and gratitude towards Lyria for being the kind of person who made it her own personal goal to include others in everything and anything and ensure their happiness. He really doesn’t deserve these friends of his. “I’ll be joining as well,” he interjects before anyone can ask. “We protect our “weak spot” on our body from getting tagged, and we try to tag others while not touching the floor as it is made of lava, am I correct?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at Lyria to see if he had got it right.

“Yeah, pretty much!” Lyria cheers, clapping her hands together. “We’re playing on teams and you have to protect you bandana with your team color from getting pulled by members of the other team! It’s so we can keep track of how many points each teams gets,” she explains. “Otherwise, you’ve already got it all down, so let’s go!” She grabs both their hands and leads them to the group. “Everyone, Lucifer and Sandalphon are joining us!”

“Sweet!” Gran says. “Always glad to have you guys join in.”

“Oh, so we’re to be playing against two primarchs? This will be a welcome challenge,” the stern-looking light-haired skydweller called Albert declares.

“Yeah! Let’s see what you two have got! If you need more motivation, winning team gets first servings of my new rotisserie chicken recipe I’m testing out tonight!” A tall and broad blond skydweller calls. Sandalphon recalls his name is Vane, he remembers first meeting the jovial man years ago when he had prepared a meal for the crew as they had readied for battle.

“Yeah, but can’t they fly? Won’t that make things super easy for them?” the skydweller woman called Io wonders, a pout on her face.

“Okay, how about no flying, and we’re playing on teams, so one of you has to be on my team and one of you is on Gran’s.” Djeeta announces. “So that it’s fair.” She looks at Lucifer and Sandalphon, presumably for their agreement.

“That seems fair.” Lucifer says politely.

Sandalphon just shrugs. He turns to Lucifer. “Since we’re to be competing, our teams will be counting on us. Don’t feel the need to hold back against me just because I am your friend. I want to prove what I’ve learned to you,” he says.

Lucifer inclines his head. “I wasn’t planning on it,” he replies. “I look forward to seeing how your skills have developed,” he says, a glint in his eye, and Sandalphon feels a tingle of exhilaration run down his spine.

“Dibs on Lucifer!” An energetic erune- Ferry might have been her name?- yells.

“You heard the man! Lucifer’s on team blue!” Gran immediately pipes up.

“Hey, I wanted Lucifer!” Djeeta complains. “You can’t do that!”

“Yeah, that’s no fair!” the small blonde skydweller woman, Charlotta, calls.

A small clamor starts up between the players, many of them vying over Lucifer’s membership to their team.

““Dibs?”” Lucifer asks, clearly perplexed by the skydweller term.

He shoots a look at Sandalphon, who laughs and replies, “I think it is a skydweller method of reserving your presence on their team. Seems you’re very popular.”

Sandalphon can’t help but laugh again as he watches members of both teams try to shove the colored bandanas in a nonplussed Lucifer’s direction. He feels a pool of warmth gather in his stomach at the clear evidence of how _wanted_ Lucifer is among the crew and how well he fits right in.

At the same time, the sight invokes a pang in his chest. Lucifer had called him his solace, and Sandalphon hopes he can be that solace for him as long as they both soar these skies… but there is no reason he has to be the only one Lucifer can rely on for support and companionship. As much as he wishes to be able to do so, he can’t be everything to Lucifer. Even though, he thinks that Lucifer is everything to him.

“Here.”

He feels something tap against his arm. He looks down to see one of the crew members, the skydweller girl Lunalu, handing him a red bandana. He looks back at Lucifer to see that Lyria is helping him tie a blue bandana to his right arm. He notes that she also has a blue bandana wrapped around her small arm. Somehow, it feels right, seeing the two most calming and kind hearted people he had ever met laughing and conversing carefreely together, framed against the blue sky. He is probably putting too much thought into this, seeing meaning where there is none, but maybe it is because he has had so few memories like this, moments that are just bright and free of pain for no real reason other than they just _are_. He feels like he needs to be sure to file this memory away in a safe spot in his heart. Many years later, when all of this is gone, these memories will keep him warm.

“I don’t know what the big fuss is about,” Lunalu announces as Sandalphon absentmindedly ties the bandana to his left arm, strange thoughts still swirling like fog around his mind. “It’s not like you’re a bad pick to have on our team. For what it’s worth I’m glad with how this turned out.”

Sandalphon chuckles. “Thank you, but I think the evidence is clearly stacked against me,” he replies, inclining his head at the rambunctious crowd gathered around Lucifer. “Although, just for that, I suppose I’ll have to try even harder not to let our team down.”

“Yeah, you better!” Lunalu remarks good naturedly.

“Okay, let’s get this game going!” Gran yells. “Blue team, gather with me!”    

“Red team to me!” Djeeta calls.

As Sandalphon walks over to join the crowd, he notes that a mess of mattresses, pillows, and wooden pallets have been scattered around the deck, presumably to act as places that the players can stand where they will be safe from the “lava.” Some of the mattresses sit on top of crates that have been similarly arranged about for the purposes of the game. He runs his eyes quickly over the playing field, making note of safe areas and choke points that he can take advantage of to corner members of the enemy team. As the two teams gather up, he also allows himself a sweeping glance over the members of the other team. Admittedly, his tendency for isolation means that he has not yet observed all of their fighting styles, but just a look at their builds and style of dress tells him a good deal about what he will be dealing with.

He notes that both teams are fairly well-balanced, although his own team seems to tend towards smaller members that would best make use of their speed and agility. That will provide them an advantage in this environment. Size and strength will largely be a detriment as the players dodge and weave amongst the obstacles.

Without his magic or wings, Sandalphon knows that speed will be his strength as well. He is confident that he will be able to easily outmaneuver most of the skydwellers. He might even need to restrain himself when going against them to ensure a level of “fairness.” At the very least, it wouldn’t be a useful battle training exercise if he immediately eliminated them. Obviously, Lucifer will be his main threat. Despite his greater size, based on the few times he had observed his fighting over 2000 years ago, and the few battles they had participated in together recently, Sandalphon can probably assume that Lucifer is just as fast, if not faster than he is, with or without his six wings. Back in the labs, Lucifer probably could have dodged circles around him if he had wanted to. Sandalphon knows that he has improved a great deal since then- spending two millennia fighting endless waves of chaos beasts in hell will do that to you- but he will still be hard-pressed to gain the advantage against Lucifer.  

However, being guardian of the sky, Lucifer is likely accustomed to doing battle in wide-open environments and annihilating enemies with his raw, overwhelming power. This game will strip both of those things away. On the other hand, Sandalphon had spent his imprisonment learning to become resourceful as he battled in dark, tight spaces, unable to fly due to the nearness of the Crimson Horizon draining his magic. Admittedly, he had also spent what felt like an eternity doing basically nothing in his cradle prison, but his body still remembers the way he had been forced to cling to life in hell.

Lucifer’s expression is unreadable as the two teams line up in front of each other. Sandalphon wonders if Lucifer will target him first. From a strategic standpoint, that would be the more logical move since Sandalphon will be the main obstacle to his team’s victory. If he eliminates Sandalphon right off the bat, he will have nearly no match on the battlefield. However, Sandalphon has a feeling that from a game perspective, he will want to take time to play against the other members of the crew first. If that is the case, Sandalphon will not interfere. He will wait for Lucifer to make the first move in their own game.

“Okay! Everyone find a safe spot to start on and get ready!” Djeeta calls.

Sandalphon follows the others to stand on the nearest surface that is off of the deck of the Grandcypher.

“Remember, no kicking, biting, scratching, or choking, no moving the safe spots, and no going out of bounds. Magic and weapons are not allowed! Try not to break anything or hurt anyone this time!” Djeeta continues.

“Ready… set… GO!”

* * *

 

He feels Lucifer coming more than he sees him. He jerks out of the way just in time to avoid a hand reaching to snatch the bandana from his arm. Carried by momentum, Lucifer zooms past him, their shoulders brushing together with a bruising amount of force as he passes. He lands gracefully on a nearby crate, his feet barely seeming to make a dent in the mattress on top of it.

“Pressing the advantage and launching an attack from behind… as expected from a warrior of your calibre, Lucifer-sama,” Sandalphon mutters, then snaps his mouth shut with an audible click. It seems he hasn’t broken his old habit of letting adrenaline loosen his tongue during battle. When you’ve spent a great deal of your life alone fighting mindless monsters, even your own ragged undertones are better than going insane from the silence.

“And as expected, you were prepared for me,” Lucifer replies smoothly. It seems he had caught Sandalphon’s words after all.

Sandalphon is crouched tensely, muscles coiled and ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. “So you intend to face me now?” he asks, testing the waters.

“That’s right.” Lucifer confirms, inclining his head slightly. “We’re nearing the turning point of this game. Both parties are close. I intend to finish you before we reach completion.”

“Oh? And do you think you’re going to come out on top between the two of us?” Sandalphon shoots back, unable to resist partaking in some playful banter.

“On top or not, I will do what is takes to ensure our victory,” Lucifer answers.

“Hey!” A voice interrupts their exchange. Sandalphon doesn’t bother looking, but he can tell it is a call from the erune Eustace as he dodges past them. “Can you two stop flirting and get to tagging each other!?”

Lucifer responds for both of them by launching himself towards Sandalphon once again.

Sandalphon had been expecting such a move, but he still just barely manages to throw himself out of the way and land on a nearby crate. He can feel the rush of air that spirals past him in Lucifer’s wake. As he had expected, Lucifer is devastatingly fast, even after only having a short while to get used to his new body. Some part of Sandalphon feels a rush of pride and relief at the fact that Lucifer seems to be taking flawlessly to the new body they had created, and that the body appears to be just as durable as his previous one. Even though Lucifer had already proven himself after accompanying the crew on several quests, Sandalphon had still harbored some fears about whether this new body would match up to his old one. This was just more proof that Lucifer is truly back in all of his former glory. Sandalphon is far from minding another confirmation that every second he had toiled to create that new core had paid itself back a thousand times over.

Distracted, Sandalphon isn’t quite able to dodge out of the way of Lucifer’s next offensive. He manages to thrust his arm behind his back so that Lucifer isn’t able to grab the bandana, but they end up crashing into each other and are sent tumbling onto a mat on the deck. Sandalphon throws his weight as they roll so that he ends up on top of Lucifer. He scrambles to pin down Lucifer’s arms and legs below him with his own limbs.

This time, Lucifer’s greater size and weight gives him the advantage, as he easily uses his remaining momentum to flip them both over and switch their positions. He locks his long legs around Sandalphon’s hips, restraining him and holds his right arm while leaning his weight on Sandalphon’s chest to keep him from escaping. “Ugh,” Sandalphon shoves his other arm further under his back so that Lucifer won’t be able to reach the bandana. It isn’t a particularly comfortable position, but he needs to maintain it until he can regain the upper hand.

“I hope you aren’t going easy on me after all,” Lucifer murmurs as he tries to pry Sandalphon’s left arm out from under him.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Sandalphon growls. In one swift motion, he bends his knees so that the soles of his feet are braced against the mat and thrusts his hips upward with enough force to send Lucifer hurtling up and over him towards a mattress that had been above their heads. His own momentum and Lucifer’s continued grip on his right arm carry him along in the flip. Taking advantage of the movement, he lunges for the bandana on Lucifer’s arm. He thinks he hears some yells of alarm from the other crew members as they hurtle the several feet through the air to their landing spot.

They crash onto the mattress together. Sandalphon finds his legs straddling Lucifer’s and one hand pinning one of Lucifer’s wrists and the other wrapped around the arm with the bandana, although this time their roles are reversed and Lucifer has his arm hidden stubbornly underneath his body. “I seem to keep finding you on your back underneath me, Lucifer-sama,” Sandalphon can’t resist quipping as he yanks on Lucifer’s arm. In terms of brute strength, as primals, their size difference has no real bearing and they are fairly evenly matched. They had been designed to fulfill the same role, after all. Sandalphon doubts he can distract Lucifer enough so that he can get the bandana this way, but it is worth a try.

“You haven’t been leaving me much choice in the matter,” Lucifer replies mildly. “Though I’ll admit, you look quite dashing when you come for me at full strength like this,” he follows the statement with a rather disarming smile, regardless of the fact that they are still both grappling with each other to take the other’s bandana.

 _Now he’s trying to distract_ you. Sandalphon thinks. It works anyway. Before he can do anything else, Lucifer rips his left arm out of Sandalphon’s grip and shoves him in the chest hard enough to send him flying off of him. Instead of fighting the momentum, Sandalphon lets himself roll to the side and turns the movement into a leap off the mattress onto a nearby crate. Almost as soon as his feet touch down on the crate, he launches himself back towards Lucifer, hand outstretched to make a grab for the bandana. His fingers just barely brush the surface of the cloth as he hurtles past while Lucifer dodges out of the way.

“You really aren’t planning on leaving me any room to breathe, aren’t you?” Lucifer calls, although he doesn’t seem particularly bothered.

“I plan on going as hard and fast as it takes in order to finish you off first!” Sandalphon responds, kicking off the mattress and leaping towards Lucifer again.

In this way, they leap and dodge and feint together across the playing field. Sandalphon is vaguely aware of passing by several of the other players, but he can’t be bothered to pay them much mind when his battle with Lucifer demands his full attention.

Once again, Sandalphon launches himself at Lucifer. However, it seems like the other primarch had had the same idea, so they end up slamming into each other midair. They grapple for a moment before they start to fall. Sandalphon feels Lucifer tense against him, and in the same instant he also realizes that in trying to tag each other, now both of them are seconds away from being eliminated from the game as victims of touching the “lava.” Unless….

Sandalphon tenses, and he feels Lucifer’s muscles coil in response as he reads what Sandalphon plans to do. In unison, they both shove off from each other, allowing the force from their simultaneous pushes to send them flying apart. Sandalphon lands roughly, but safely, on a crate, his heels scraping against the surface. He sees Lucifer land on a mat a ways across from him, noting how his boots sink into the soft surface and how his legs flex elegantly as he sticks a graceful landing.

And in the next instant those legs are right in front of him as Lucifer appears in front of him to grab his shoulders and shove him against a taller crate behind him.

 _Distracted again_ , Sandalphon curses himself as he protects the bandana with his body once again. _Now is not the time to ogle Lucifer’s body, no matter how mesmerizing he can be_.

“It’s seems we find ourselves in this position yet again,” Lucifer says, tugging forcefully on Sandalphon’s arm. “If I didn’t know any better I would think you were enjoying me jumping on you.”

“Indeed,” Sandalphon flashes a grin, “It’s rather nice to know you can’t keep your hands off of me.” He shoves his knees between Lucifer’s legs and hooks the back of his ankles with his feet, knocking him off balance. As Lucifer stumbles, Sandalphon dives for the bandana with one hand, at the same time, he grabs his shoulder with the other hand and pushes Lucifer’s back against the crate, reversing their positions. “But I think I prefer it this way,” he says, leaning his weight forward to keep the other archangel pinned. He growls as he sees that his grab had failed yet again, and Lucifer’s arm with the bandana is firmly tucked behind his back, with no amount of force seeming able to loosen it.

“Hmm, this isn’t bad at all,” Lucifer replies, wrestling with Sandalphon’s other arm. Suddenly, he wraps both his legs around Sandalphon’s and shoves forward off the crate. “Let’s try something else this time though.”

Thrown off balance, and his legs immobilized, Sandalphon falls backwards and lands on his back with a thump. He manages to block Lucifer’s grab for his bandana with his other arm, but he can’t break the vice-like grip Lucifer’s thighs have on his legs. They struggle for a few moments, each trying unsuccessfully to pull the other’s bandana.

“I think it’s about time you laid back and relaxed for a bit,” Lucifer huffs, pressing down harder on Sandalphon’s chest with an elbow as he tries to reach past Sandalphon’s blocking arm.

“You know I can’t do that,” Sandalphon grunts, pulling his bandana arm as close to his body as he can to shield it from Lucifer’s grasp. “Besides, I thought you liked it when I really make you work for it,” he can’t help snarking, earning a chuckle from Lucifer. In that moment, he feels Lucifer relax slightly, so takes the chance to rush upwards and flip them both over.

His newfound advantage doesn’t last long however, as Lucifer uses the momentum to keep them rolling so that Sandalphon is underneath again. Not wanting to give up yet, Sandalphon throws his weight again, and they trade positions several more times, tumbling the entire length of the crate and the length of a mattress that had been lined up below it.

On top again, Lucifer suddenly grabs onto the red bandana around Sandalphon’s arm. Sandalphon can feel him start to pull it loose. Desperately, he grabs Lucifer’s wrist and tries to prevent him from pulling the piece of cloth off the rest of the way. At the same time, he lunges upwards and sinks his teeth into Lucifer’s bandana.

Lucifer’s eyes widen as his own bandana begins to slip off his arm. With both of his arms occupied, he has no choice but to bite into the other end of the bandana to try to keep it wrapped around his arm.

-guys! Guys! Lucifer! Sandalphon!”

Both of them freeze exactly as they are as they hear the alarmed call of one of their captains.

Sandalphon slides his gaze to the side to see an exasperated Gran waving his arms at them from the deck nearby. He notices that Gran is standing on the bare deck, in the “lava.” He also notices that there are quite a few members of the crew behind him in the “lava” as well and many of them seem to be crouched with their hands over their heads. Djeeta is similarly crouched along with Katalina, and for some reason they seem to be holding Lyria close and covering her eyes and ears. He tenses. Is there an attack on the ship happening right now? He quickly glances around and casts out his aura, but he doesn’t sense anything out of the ordinary, other than some of the other crew members also covering the eyes and ears of their younger ship mates.

“Finally!” Gran sighs. “We’ve been calling you two for ages.”

“Oh,” Lucifer says from around the bandana. “It seems we failed to notice. Please forgive us.”  

“Yeah, yeah, could you guys, er, _get up_ now?” Gran grimaces. Strangely, when Sandalphon looks at him more carefully, his face seems a bit pinkish.

Abandoning their struggle for the bandanas, they let go of each other. Lucifer relinquishes his weight on Sandalphon and stands, offering Sandalphon a hand to help him to his feet, which he gladly takes.

“What’s going on?” Sandalphon asks once they are both upright.

“Well, the game’s over now. You guys kind of made a mess of the playing field.” Gran says, rubbing the back of his neck.

 _Huh?_ Sandalphon gives him a confused look, then turns and looks at the deck. To his surprise, many of the mats and crates are indeed out of place, seemingly knocked out of the way by a powerful force. He glances at Lucifer, perplexed, and sees his own puzzled gaze mirrored back at him. Had they really leapt off the safe spots with enough strength to knock them out of place in their wake? Come to think of it, he might have felt a few of the objects shift below his feet as he jumped off of them, but he hadn’t paid it much mind in his focus on defeating Lucifer. It seems Lucifer had similarly forgotten about controlling his strength as well.

Lucifer speaks from beside him. “I apologize. It seems I lost control of my strength. I hope we didn’t entirely ruin the game for you all.”

Sandalphon rushes to accompany the apology. It had been his fault as well, after all. “Yes, I also owe everyone an apology. I should have paid more attention to my surroundings.”

“Uh, right, it’s fine but-” Gran says.

“Just try to tone it down a bit next time!” Djeeta interrupts, marching towards them. She has since stopping covering Lyria’s eyes and ears and stood up to her full height, with her hands on her hips and a disapproving frown on her face. “There are children here!” she hisses so that only the four of them can hear, while she gestures at Lyria and some of the younger members of the crew. “You should save that kind of thing for- for- _the bedroom_!” she waves her hands aggressively in the direction of the crew’s quarters to emphasize her point. Her face also seems to be rather unusually flushed, presumably in annoyance.

Sandalphon furrows his brow. He doesn’t understand what her point is. All these _children_ had seen many battles under her and Gran’s leadership. Surely it wouldn’t mean much to them to see Lucifer and Sandalphon in a friendly competitive spar. And although both of them had neglected to keep their strength in check, they _had_ been paying attention to where they were going so that none of the other crew members would have been in danger of getting caught in the midst of their fight. He doesn’t particularly see how sparring in their rooms would be any less disruptive either, seeing as there would hardly be any room for them to move.

Lucifer seems to be equally at a loss. “Captains, I’m not sure-”

Whatever he is going to say is lost as a loud voice breaks into their conversation. “Whew! That was some game everyone!” the helmsman Rackam exclaims, laughing, and throwing an arm over Gran’s shoulder.

“Yeah! I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a tense competition!” Vane adds. “I’ll be sure to recall that competitive passion when I’m making that rotisserie tonight!”

The rest of the crowd breaks up, all the members chattering animatedly amongst themselves. Some start to head below decks to get ready for dinner, while the rest stay behind to clean up.

“I knew you weren’t a bad pick,” Lunalu remarks, punching Sandalphon on the arm as she walks past. “You eliminated nine of the blues! Good work.”

“You two were worthy opponents,” Albert says as he passes them. “Congratulations on the victory,” he nods at Sandalphon.

“Oh, I suppose our team must have won?” Sandalphon gathers as he and Lucifer join the flow of people.

“Yeah, the red team won by one point!” Lyria pops in from behind them. “Congrats! You and Lucifer really went at it! I hope you had fun even though we had to cut it short to have time for dinner!”

Both the primarchs smile at her cheerful energy.

“I quite enjoyed myself,” Lucifer replies. “I hope we didn’t diminish your enjoyment by causing the mess we did.”

“No, it’s fine! I think Gran and Djeeta were exaggerating the you guys making a mess thing anyway,” she replies. “I had lots of fun!”

“Are you kidding me?!” Vyrn butts in. “I almost got hit by a flying pillow!”

“Ah? But didn’t you get tagged out in the beginning? There weren’t any pillows near where all the people watching were...” Their conversation fades as they head off the join the others belowdecks.

Some of the other crew members stay behind to clean up the battle field.

“You two are going to help clean up, right?” Djeeta looks at Lucifer and Sandalphon pointedly.

Sandalphon bristles at her tone, but he has no grounds to argue since he was one of the ones who lost control of his strength in the first place.

“Of course,” Lucifer replies, ever gracious and poised.

“Yes, of course,” Sandalphon echoes, trying to match the serene demeanor. He’s fairly certain he fails, but Djeeta doesn’t comment on it. He and Lucifer join the others in picking up and putting away the various objects used in the game. They make sure to handle the heavier crates and mattresses, seeing as all of them weigh near nothing to them anyways.

“Did you enjoy yourself, Sandalphon?” Lucifer asks as he easily throws two mattresses over his shoulders and carries them towards storage.

Sandalphon follows him, balancing two stacked crates in his arms. “Yes, I did. I found our spar quite exhilarating. It’s been a while since we tested our abilities against one another.”

“Yes, that’s true. Although, it’s a shame we didn’t get a chance to find out the outcome between the two of us,” Lucifer murmurs. He drops off the mattresses in the storage room along with the others, then holds out his hands to take the crates from Sandalphon.

Sandalphon debates refusing to pass off the crates in favor of stacking them in storage himself, but decides it isn’t worth the effort and hands them over, probably with far too much care. Even though he knows it is unnecessary, he can’t help but want to do things for Lucifer, to make things easier for him. “I hate to admit it, but I think had we continued, you surely would have won. You had me restrained, with victory quite literally in your grasp,” he sighs out. He had not been expecting to defeat Lucifer, but he also had hoped to prove that he was his equal. Then Lucifer could rest easy knowing that he had left the mantle of the Supreme Primarch in capable hands.

“Nonsense,” Lucifer argues, “You still maintained a formidable defense, and you also launched an offensive that placed victory in your grasp as well.” Both of them briefly recall the predicament that had resulted in them fighting for Lucifer’s blue bandana with their teeth, much to Sandalphon’s embarrassment. “In the end, we were evenly matched. If anything, I say the triumph was yours, considering that your team won, thanks to your help.”

“Our team’s success was the work of all its members as a whole! I can’t simply claim a victory that I only played a small part in!” Sandalphon protests. They had since returned to the upper deck to continue cleaning up, and he rather violently heaves a bundle of mats over his shoulder as he speaks.

“Didn’t the young skydweller author say you tagged nine people? That is no “small part.” I myself only eliminated eight players before I decided to try my hand against you.”

Sandalphon sputters. “Ah, really?!” Had he really made a crucial contribution to his team’s victory? He honestly had not even been paying attention since he had been so focused on Lucifer and when he would make his move. “Still, the number of eliminations we each had isn’t a good comparison of our abilities considering our teams were unmatched to begin with. You could have been facing stronger opponents than I, and in that case you would still be the superior between us.”

Lucifer merely lets out a dissatisfied hum in response. “I suppose we won’t know until we play again then….”

The conversation drifts as they help carry the rest of the equipment to the storage room downstairs, and Sandalphon thinks that is the end of it. Until, just as they are about to join the rest of the crew for dinner, Lucifer speaks up again.

“I fear that my curiosity is too great. I would like to continue our Lava Tag spar,” he murmurs to Sandalphon.

“Now?” Sandalphon falters. “We already cleared the playing field….” he cuts himself off when he sees a flash of disappointment across Lucifer’s face.

“Yes, that is true. Perhaps a regular spar will have to do….” Lucifer concedes.

“Or perhaps we _could_ continue it!” Sandalphon blurts, suddenly remembering something Captain Djeeta had said. At Lucifer’s confused look, he barrels onward. “The Captain said to “keep it in the bedroom,” correct? That means-” he doesn’t bother finishing his sentence once he sees the look of understanding cross Lucifer’s face. Sandalphon grins. It seems their after dinner plans are set.  

* * *

 

In retrospect, it was a terrible idea. Honestly, Sandalphon could have foreseen it being a terrible idea beforehand, and he was sure Lucifer had thought the same thing, but somehow it didn’t occur to either of them that they could just _not do it._ They probably should have stopped after the dresser had let out a loud creak upon Lucifer landing on it, and something inside had snapped, causing it to no longer stand up straight and Lucifer to have to leap aside before it completely collapsed beneath him. Actually, they should have not even started in the first place upon entering Sandalphon’s room and seeing how cramped and ill-suited for their little game it was, but somehow, instead all that had happened was Sandalphon wondering what they should use as bandanas and Lucifer ripping off two correctly-sized strips from his cloak, much to the former’s dismay. They _definitely_ should have stopped when they both collided and crashed onto the bed together, causing a loud crack and a sudden jerk as one of the legs gave out, but somehow both of them had abandoned all common sense in the thrill of the chase and they just ignored it. Actually, it became part of the challenge as both of them continued to use the bed as a landing spot multiple times, paying no mind to the increasingly sinister popping and snapping noises emanating from the battered frame after each round of relentless abuse. They probably really should have considered the fact that even if leaping and kicking off the walls made for excellent displays of athletic ability, it likely would not have seemed that way to their neighbors who were trying to sleep, or to the paint they were chipping off with every thud of their boots on the oaken surfaces.

It finally occurs to Sandalphon that maybe they should cease when upon being sent hurtling towards a wall by Lucifer’s retaliatory shove, instead of feeling solid wall beneath his feet that would allow him to deflect off and land in a safe spot, there is a harsh crunch, and he stumbles as his boot suddenly becomes part of the wall. He will later be more than a little ashamed to admit that his immediate first thought was not that this had gone too far and that they should stop, but was in fact that he was about to lose if he touched the “lava” on the floor. He shoves off the wall with his other foot, yanking on the boot that had punctured the wall with enough force to dislodge it and leaps clumsily towards the safety of the closet, which had since been knocked on its side during the course of their game. Halfway through his leap, his brain catches up with what had happened, and he realizes that he should tell Lucifer that they really need to stop before they completely destroy his room.

“Lucifer-sa-” he doesn’t get to finish his thought as Lucifer, who had also been hurtling towards the closet and had not anticipated Sandalphon’s trajectory being altered by his foot temporarily becoming one with the wall, suddenly slams into him from the side. Sandalphon is sent crashing against the wall, with Lucifer plastered against him. Sandalphon throws out his arms in front of him to keep from faceplanting into the wall, and both of them watch in seemingly slow motion as Sandalphon’s hand contacts the window, and then proceeds to keep going through the window, ending where his dark gloved hand stands out starkly as it is framed against the rapidly purpling dusk.

The _crack_ of splintering glass echoes as loud as a thunderclap through the room.

Both Lucifer and Sandalphon freeze, staring silently at Sandalphon’s hand through the window. Sandalphon finally reacts and jerks his hand back inside once he feels the telltale prickle of his regenerative ability at work. He checks his hand. His glove is a bit damaged, but other than a few scratches there isn’t much sign of injury to his skin.

“Sandalphon, are you alright?” Lucifer asks, voice full of concern. He is already reaching for Sandalphon’s hand, healing magic active. “I’m sorry, I should have been more careful.”

Sandalphon allows him to take it despite the fact that there isn’t much left to heal. “I’m fine. And you don’t need to apologize at all, you couldn’t have known that would happen,” he protests.

Lucifer still wears a worried frown on his face, cradling Sandalphon’s hand as though there were bloody shards of glass sticking out of it. Even the torn cloth of his glove rapidly knits itself back together under Lucifer’s powerful healing touch.

“Really, I think we should be more concerned about the state of this room,” Sandalphon points out, wanting to assuage his worries. As soon as the words leave his mouth, he feels a deep sense of dread overwhelm him. He’s going to have to explain to the Captains how he had been foolish enough to allow this to happen. They were never going to let him hear the end of this. He lets out a groan and buries his face in his hands.

“Sandalphon?” Lucifer’s apprehensive voice causes him to look back up. “Is something wrong?”

“Ugh, it’s just… I’m not looking forward to having to explain this damage to the Captains. They will surely be displeased with my folly.”

“Perhaps I should speak with them instead,” Lucifer says. “I was the one who convinced you to do this, so I should take the blame.”

“No, no, I was the one who suggested using my room. It really was my fault, so I’ll talk to the Captains. I’m sure if I provide them compensation for the damage, things will be fine. Please don’t concern yourself with it, Lucifer-sama.”

“Sandalphon, I must disagree. I can’t possibly let you-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Sandalphon pelvic thrusted Lucifer so hard that they both went flying.


	5. The first dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something we didn't see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of this chapter was inspired by [ bunshima](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunshima/pseuds/bunshima)’s fanfiction “[birds of a feather flock together](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14716466/chapters/34012727#comments).” It’s a really good story on Sandy and Azazel’s adventures in the labs!

Lively music and chatter carries over from within the city limits. The festival is in full swing. In contrast, this secluded courtyard located just outside the city limits is completely devoid of both Astral, skydweller, or beast. The click of his boots on the stone tile sound far too loud. Sandalphon makes his way to a bench at the edge of the courtyard and settles down to wait. Unlike many of the other people out tonight, his eyes are not on the dancers in the town square, or the sky above in anticipation. Nor is he on watch for intruders, like some of the primal beasts that had the misfortune of being on duty tonight. Instead, he scans the edges of the courtyard, muscles tensed in anticipation, waiting. Only a gentle breeze disturbs the serene night air.

After a while with no change, he lets out a breath and forces himself to relax. He doesn’t want to seem tense when he finally is able to meet with Lucifer. He hums along with the song playing from the city. It is a pleasant, cheery tune, fitting of the occasion, the celebration of the end of the harvest season.

The people of the island put together this festival every year. And every few years, the sky graces their celebrations with a spectacular light show. A _meteor shower_ , Lucifer had called it. _Debris from outside the sky world burning up as it enters the atmosphere, although I’ve heard many people describe it as looking like stars falling._

It is also by some miraculous act of kindness, or perhaps indifference, on Head Researcher Lucilius’ part that test subjects like him are allowed out of the labs for this one occasion during the year. He can only hope his purpose is assigned to him soon so that he doesn’t have to spend another miserable year trapped in that stagnant prison.

 _“Stars falling,” huh?_ He can’t imagine what that must look like. A part of him feels a flutter of anticipation in his chest at the thought. He had been too busy thinking about his secret rendezvous with Lucifer to even wonder much about the meteor shower up until now. This will be their first time spent outside the lab together, so it really will be a special experience.

His head jerks up as he senses a presence at the edge of the courtyard. All his thoughts scatter like frightened birds as his full attention hyperfixates on the familiar energy signature and now visible figure approaching him.

“Lucifer-sama!” He jumps up to greet him, unable to restrain the excitement in his voice.

“Sandalphon,” Lucifer murmurs, a soft smile breaking across his face. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”

“I’m happy to see you as well!” Sandalphon replies. “How have you been?”

“It’s been busy, as usual, but rewarding. I am always fascinated by the course evolution has taken,” Lucifer says, and they both pretend that this isn’t almost the same answer he gives nearly every time, just as Sandalphon always asks him the same question every time. “I can tell you about it if you like, but please, there’s no need to stand to attention in front of me. Let us take a seat.”

Sandalphon nods his affirmation, but he waits for Lucifer to sit down first before taking his own seat next to him. Even through the euphoria of being able to speak with Lucifer and be close to him like this, he still knows his place. He ignores the fluttering in his stomach as he settles down on the bench beside Lucifer, mere inches away from him. Have they ever sat this close together before?

Lucifer begins to describe what he had observed out among the islands of the sky world, and Sandalphon listens in rapt attention, although he is captivated more by the gentle cadence of Lucifer’s voice, and the movement of his flawless lips, and the contented twinkle in his blue eyes, than by what he is actually saying. Even if he can’t begin to imagine all the strange happenings and bizarre creatures Lucifer is describing with such delight, he thinks he could listen to him speak forever.

Both of them ignore the fact that Lucifer does not ask how Sandalphon has been. If he doesn’t find a way to quickly deflect or change the subject, the answer would always be the same anyways, caged as he is by the gray walls of the lab, days stretching empty and monotonous into perpetuity, when they aren’t interspersed with the nightmarish pain of the researchers’ draconian experiments.

Their time together is so short anyway, so it is best to escape from anything miserable that holds them down. With an almost desperate enthusiasm, they make bright memories together than can tide them over during dark and lonely days until they can meet again. So Lucifer talks of a new species of hardy birds that have spread across some islands and displaced the old ones that lived there; and of a lizard that had been thought extinct, only for three new ones to pop up in its place; of odd vessels the skydwellers had developed to soar across the sky without wings; and islands that had once been nothing but fiery volcanic craters calming and now flourishing as forests filled with life.

Although their conversation is mostly just Lucifer speaking and Sandalphon listening as if spellbound, while occasionally interjecting with an exclamation or question, they both seem to enjoy themselves immensely.

Eventually, their talking tapers off, but the silence that falls between them isn’t a wholly uncomfortable one.

Lucifer sighs.

Sandalphon notes that it isn’t the first time he has let out such a weary-sounding sigh tonight. He looks at him, _really_ looks at him. He is as ethereally beautiful as ever, skin like pale china and hair a halo of shining gossamer. A perfect porcelain doll crafted by the hands of gods themselves. And yet, tonight, his usually luminous blue eyes appear dull and lifeless. Sandalphon must have overlooked it before in the initial haze of eagerness he had felt upon seeing Lucifer again. If he looks carefully, he thinks he can see bags under his eyes, although that could just be a trick of the light. However, he doesn’t need his superior primal vision to be able to sense the weariness Lucifer wears like a second skin. He is the Supreme Primarch, the guardian of the sky realm, the overseer of evolution; a being with the power of a god at his wingtips. And yet, he is tired. Alone at the pinnacle of the sky, he shoulders the burden of the entire world. Oh, what Sandalphon would give to be able to take some of that weight onto his own shoulders, to lighten the load that smothers even his shining star. If only he weren’t such a useless hinderance, a purposeless primal with nothing to offer the world at large, and most painful of all, nothing to offer to Lucifer.

“The festivities seem quite lively,” Lucifer comments, bringing Sandalphon out of his swirling thoughts.

“Yes, they are,” Sandalphon agrees. “The square was packed to the brim with dancers and revelers even when I left town. Did you see it?”

“I did, but only from a distance.” Lucifer replies shortly. “I flew over the city on my way to meet the High Council.”

Sandalphon winces. Of course, as the Supreme Primarch, he had much more important matters to attend to than watching dances. Only someone who was useless like Sandalphon would have the time to spare such trivialities a thought.

“The celebration looks quite… enjoyable. I’m sorry to have dragged you away from it. You should be in town enjoying yourself with the others,” Lucifer says, a sad smile on his face. As though _he_ was the one who was a burden to Sandalphon, and not the other way around.

“Nonsense!” Sandalphon gasps with such vehemence that Lucifer looks up in surprise. “There is nowhere in the world I would rather be than at your side!” He insists, ignoring the heat rushing across his face at such a bare admission. Even if it is unseemly for someone of such low rank to say such a thing, he must make Lucifer understand that he is the most important person to him. “Even if the Omnipotent themself were to grace the city with their presence, I would still choose to spend this night with you,” he says more quietly, looking away in embarrassment. When Lucifer does not immediately respond, he wonders if perhaps he had said too much. These were his honest feelings, but who was he to fancy himself worthy of the privilege of holding Lucifer so close to his heart, let alone to brazenly confess to him like a starstruck admirer?

He sneaks a glance towards Lucifer through the curtain of his bangs. His breath catches. Lucifer is smiling, his lips curved into a small, but genuine smile.

“Thank you, Sandalphon. I don’t believe I am deserving of such kind words, but nevertheless, I will hold them close to my heart,” he murmurs, and Sandalphon’s core twists because how, just _how,_ could _Lucifer_ , the shining light, feel unworthy of _Sandalphon_?

 _I should be the one apologizing for keeping you from enjoying the celebrations_. He almost voices this thought, but of course, Lucifer would not be allowed to show himself in the town square among the other partygoers. He is the Supreme Primarch, the world’s guiding example, so it is beneath him to engage in such lowly things as dancing among ordinary folk. At least, that seemed to be what the Astral High Council thought. Perhaps they should have thought about whether the Supreme Primarch himself wished to be allowed to dance as well. They should have thought about whether the Supreme Primarch was allowed to be his own person at all.

The unfairness of it all sends a wave of heat rushing through Sandalphon’s core. Before he can think about it, he jumps to his feet and turns to face Lucifer. He thrusts out a hand towards the other, palm open upwards to the night sky. “Lucifer-sama, may… may I have this dance?” His heart pounds furiously, and the silence of the empty courtyard seems like a roar to his ears. Had he gone too far? Had it been foolish to assume that Lucifer’s forlorn expression meant he wanted to dance just like the partygoers in the town? Even then, although Lucifer had willingly sought him out here, that did not mean he saw Sandalphon as any more than a small distraction. Sandalphon had no right to ask him to take his unworthy hand or to request that they take to the dancefloor as equals. Just as he is about to drop his hand and beg for forgiveness, Lucifer smiles once again and places his hand in Sandalphon’s.

The touch sends shockwaves of electricity up Sandalphon’s arm and it is all he can do to maintain his composure as Lucifer wraps their fingers together and rises to his feet. Even with his high-heeled boots, Sandalphon just manages to reach eye-level with Lucifer’s chin. With their hands clasped, Sandalphon leads them to the center of the courtyard. It is only when he turns to face Lucifer once again, that he realizes, to his horror, that he has no idea how to dance. All he had done so far was based on quick glimpses of the dances he had seen as he was waiting to slip away to meet Lucifer. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, or how to move his feet, and from the expectant look Lucifer is giving him, neither does he. He curses himself for not having paid more attention before he had left.

“Ah, I…” Sandalphon stammers.

Lucifer chuckles, and for a moment, Sandalphon forgets his burning humiliation as he marvels at that wonderful sound. A choir of origin beasts created with the sole purpose of producing beautiful sounds could not begin to compare to the perfection of Lucifer’s chiming laugh.  “Allow me, “ he murmurs. He takes both of Sandalphon’s hands and gently places one on his waist and for the other, he presses their palms together and intertwines their fingers. He then places his free hand on Sandalphon’s shoulder. “I believe we start like this.”

It seems Lucifer knows more than he had let on.

Sandalphon feels like his insides are being stirred with a hot blade. Perhaps Lucilius had damaged his core the last time he had been on the operation table, because surely just the feel of Lucifer’s warm hand in his and on his shoulder should not cause him to feel like he is both ablaze with fire and frozen in ice all at once. He had never been this close to him before. He can feel the warmth radiating off his body. Sandalphon takes a deep breath and smells the familiar aroma of amber tinged with bergamot that he had grown to associate with Lucifer.

He forces himself to calm down. For tonight, Lucifer expects him to lead them both. He expects him to be his sanctuary from the weight of the world. He takes another deep breath, allowing his scent to soothe his nerves. He lets the muted sounds of the festival music drift over him. He can do this. _They_ can do this.

They start to move.

To call their stumbling attempts “dancing” would be giving them too much credit. They try to pull in the wrong directions and their steps are off-rhythm. Sandalphon almost immediately steps on the toe of Lucifer’s boot, and only stops his mortified apologies when Lucifer proceeds to do the same not five minutes later. If he weren’t so embarrassed, Sandalphon might have found it funny that two beings who were so graceful on the battlefield could be as clumsy as newborn ducklings on the dance floor.

He keeps his eyes focused on the ground, determined to guide them into following some sort of pattern and to not step on Lucifer’s foot again. He focuses as much as he can on the faint music, trying to recall how the dancers had moved in time to the melody of the instruments. He begins to hum along with the song, struggling to translate the jumps and dips in the music to the movement of their bodies.

Sandalphon is surprised Lucifer has yet to pull away. Surely he is disgusted by Sandalphon’s pathetic attempts to lead them in dance. Sandalphon wants to catch a glimpse of Lucifer’s expression, but he can’t bear to look him in the eye after such a shameful display.

Lucifer steps squarely on Sandalphon’s foot, causing both of them to stumble and bump into each other

“I-I’m sorry Lucifer-sama!” Sandalphon gasps automatically. To his surprise, Lucifer lets out an amused chuckle, which has him jolting his head up to stare.

“Surely it is I who should be apologizing. I was the one who stepped on your foot,” Lucifer says, voice full of mirth. The smile doesn’t disappear from his face.

“It was only because my foot shouldn’t have been there in the first place! It is I who was in the wrong!” Sandalphon hurriedly replies. In truth, he has no idea whether that is true, but he feels the need to take responsibility since he dragged them into this dance anyway.

He watches in wonder as Lucifer tips back his head and lets out a breathy peal of laughter. The starlight illuminates the pale strip of his neck, sending a tremor of electricity down Sandalphon’s spine.

When his laughter tapers off, he fixes Sandalphon with a look so warm it is all he can do to keep from melting to the floor. “There’s nothing wrong with anything you are doing,” he says. His eyes are twinkling, the shadow of weariness that had plagued him a short while ago nowhere to be seen. Was Lucifer… having fun?

“I-I’m glad to hear that,” Sandalphon stutters, his face burning for a wholly different reason now. “My proficiency at dancing… leaves something to be desired,” he adds bitterly. If only he could give Lucifer the night he deserved.

“I think your dancing is wonderful,” Lucifer replies easily. “I’m enjoying myself quite a bit. Are you?”

He could not feel any more weightless right now, even if the floor were to disintegrate beneath his feet this very moment. “Yes,” Sandalphon breathes, warmth rushing through him. He feels like he is about to burst.“Yes, I am.”

They keep dancing.

Slowly, they begin to find some sort of rhythm together.

Sandalphon finds that it helps when he hums along with the song.

“You have a lovely voice,” Lucifer murmurs. “I don’t think I’ve heard you sing before.”

“Ah,” Sandalphon breaks off, caught off guard. “I’m not much of a singer…” He doesn’t know if that is true. He was alone often in the times in between his meetings with Lucifer. One way he had found to fill long periods of suffocating silence was to sing to himself. He usually would hum or sing songs he had heard in passing from the archangels of instruction, who loved to relay bits of skydweller culture they came across in their travels. Sometimes, he would make up his own tune and the words to go along with it. He had even started to consider writing some of his lyrics down. He has never sung in front of someone before, and he doesn’t have much of a frame of reference, so he has never considered whether his singing might be thought of as good. But if _Lucifer_ thought so… “But, if you’d like, perhaps I could sing something for you someday?” he offers hesitantly. Lucifer had offered him his coffee, maybe Sandalphon could offer this small thing of his in return.

Lucifer smiles. “That sounds wonderful.”

The song ends and another one comes on.

This song is much slower than the ones they had been dancing to. It feels more languid, sweeter, more tender. A dance for lovers perhaps.

Sandalphon suddenly has an idea. It is an absolutely terrible idea. Nevertheless, he stops and gently unclasps their hands.

Lucifer frowns, looking after Sandalphon’s hand as though he missed the contact.

“I-I have an idea,” Sandalphon begins. His face feels flushed, and he can’t seem to stop the tremor that creeps into his voice. He forces himself to look directly into Lucifer’s eyes. “This song, it’s slower than the others. I think there’s… another kind of dance that is more suited for a song like this.”

“Oh? Shall we try it?” Lucifer looks at him curiously. His pale blue eyes reflect the stars, making them look like twin portals that hold the sky itself.

Sandalphon swallows. “W-we have to stand a lot closer together, though.” This is a terrible idea. The worst idea he has ever come up with. Lucifer would never agree to-

“Alright,” Lucifer nods. He steps closer to Sandalphon, so close that breastplates scrape against each other. There isn’t an inch of space left between them. “Like this?”

“Yes,” Sandalphon croaks faintly, throat suddenly dry. He can’t take his eyes off of Lucifer. He has to tilt his head up slightly to gaze at his face. Lucifer’s skin practically glows under the starlight, smooth and clear as though he had been carved from marble. His brow is strong but not overbearing, his nose aquiline and perfectly proportioned, his jaw angular but not sharp. Sandalphon aches to brush his fingers over those pale pink lips to see if they really are as soft as rose petals like they look. He wants to run his hands through that silken white hair that shines silver under the starlight, to brush that one too-long tuft out of Lucifer’s eyes and tuck it behind his ear. His entire soul seems to scream out a symphony of yearning for Lucifer. For his eyes on him, for his mind on him, for his touch…. If only he could turn his back on the empty blue sky and instead fall forever into those crystal blue eyes.

Sandalphon carefully wraps both his arms around Lucifer’s waist. He doesn’t even need to say anything to Lucifer before the other archangel lifts his arms and places them on his shoulders. They begin to sway together, following the languorous pull of the music.

Alone in the courtyard, with no sound but the distant sonance of the music and the faint echoes of laughter, it feels as though they are alone in the world.

 

Suddenly, Lucifer tightens his grip, drawing Sandalphon so close that his cheek brushes Lucifer’s collar. He freezes as he feels him lean his head against his neck. Lucifer’s skin is as smooth and soft as it looks. He can feel the other angel’s warm breath against his ear, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. Their bodies are pressed flush together, and although they still wear their armor, their embrace feels so intimate that they might as well be wearing nothing at all. Pleasant shockwaves of electricity radiate through his body at every point of contact.

“Would you mind… humming the song for me again?” Lucifer breathes against his ear, sending sparks flying down his spine.

Shakily, Sandalphon begins to hum. He pushes more strength into his voice, until he is singing along in a wordless harmony with the distant instruments. They continue to sway along with the song.

Suddenly, the music stops and a cheer goes up from within the city. Lucifer and Sandalphon stop. Sandalphon looks around for a moment, confused, before he raises his head to the sky. His jaw drops.

The sky is lit with the sparkling trails of silvery meteors. They start off in small flashes, darting across the sky, but it isn’t long before thousands of shimmering streaks cover the horizon. It really does look like a shower of stars raining down.

“It's beautiful,” Sandalphon breathes, eyes fixed on the glimmering scene above.

“Yes, beautiful,” Lucifer murmurs. But he is not looking at the sky. Not once since the shower started has he turned his gaze to the heavens above. He isn’t looking at the sky. He is looking at Sandalphon.

After many moments of standing in silence, watching the meteor shower, Sandalphon becomes aware of Lucifer’s arms still around his shoulders. Neither of them have moved from the positions they held during their dance. He suddenly feels an ache in his core so intense that it is almost unbearable. If only he could always be like this with Lucifer. To hold and be held. To be wanted.

Feeling a tenderness in his chest, Sandalphon ever so slightly presses closer to Lucifer’s body, gently squeezing his waist. His heart skips when he feels Lucifer squeeze back, leaning into the touch.

* * *

He thinks that he will treasure the memories of tonight for as long as he lives. Even when he is lying bleeding and dissected on the cold examination tables of the labs, or when he spends weeks at a time wandering alone in the empty halls, he could think of Lucifer’s gentle touch and feel no more pain.

Later, he will think bitterly on how naive such thoughts had been.

 


	6. Comic Interlude: Hug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'd like to give a heartfelt thank you to everyone who has read and enjoyed this fic, especially those of you who left kudos and/or comments! Confession time: This was the second fanfic I have ever tried writing and the first time I have ever posted any of my writing online for anyone other than like two people in my immediate social circle to read, so I was super nervous. I was also too scared to actually read the comments up until a few days ago, which is why some of you might have gotten weirdly late replies recently. Anyway, thank you so much for all the nice comments! They were really encouraging, and I'll probably be thinking about them for the rest of my life. Anyway, I'm still working on the next chapter (it's a THICC JUICY one) so in the meantime, enjoy this short comic I made!

 

 

  


 

 

  


 

 

  


 

 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let them hug without one of them being dead or dying plz. Stupid joke brought to you by gbf community on twitter dot com.


	7. Intoxication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Probably not the drunk angels chapter you wanted.

 

“ _Ain Soph Aur!_ ”

_“Paradise Lost!”_

Gran is nearly blinded by the combined light from the flash of four glowing violet swords and the glare from a multitude of shining golden beams of energy that rain down like armageddon from the heavens and illuminate the surrounding forest. The lumbering insect-like monsters they had been fighting are reduced to nothing but dust in the wake of the attack. One of the creatures, a bright red six-legged thing with mushroom-like growths piled upon its back, as its dying throe, releases a massive pinkish cloud of what appears to be smoke or dust towards the party. Gran, Djeeta, Katalina, and Rackam had already moved far enough away that they are safe from the plume, but Lucifer and Sandalphon both become fully enveloped in it.

“Hey, are you two okay?” Djeeta calls as the cloud of dust clears.

“We’re fine. It didn’t appear to do any damage!” Sandalphon replies, but his voice sounds distorted and unsteady, which doesn’t do much to assuage anyone’s worries.

The group rushes forward once the cloud is gone to see the two primarchs standing apparently unharmed in the clearing. However, it soon becomes very clear that they had not been entirely unaffected.

Lucifer sways dangerously on his feet. He frowns, looking quite perplexed at his current situation. He appears to try to grab Sandalphon’s arm for balance, but misses and instead stumbles and falls against the other archangel, planting his face directly between Sandalphon’s thighs and grabbing onto his legs for support.

“Ah, hey!” Sandalphon gasps as the sudden extra weight causes him to stumble and fall heavily on his rear.

Lucifer grumbles but doesn’t move from his position, apparently having given up on trying to stand, or do anything else really, other than have his face in Sandalphon’s crotch.

“Lucifer-sama,” Sandalphon slurs, smacking clumsily at the other angel’s shoulder. “That feels strange!”

Lucifer merely grips Sandalphon’s legs tighter and snuggles more firmly against his thighs.

Sandalphon giggles- he actually outright _giggles_ \- and continues ineffectively shoving at Lucifer. “Stop, we can’t do that here, Lucifer-sama,” he laughs.

All the party members exchange looks with each other, expressions ranging from utter shock to resigned embarrassment. They were drunk. Somehow the blast from the enemy had made the two primarchs in their group _drunk_.

Okay. This was less than ideal. Gran had not signed up for dealing with two drunk primal beasts in the middle of their important mission.

Djeeta seems to be too stupefied to try to get the two to pull themselves together, so it looks like Gran is going to have to try to do something. He steps forward to where they are still entangled on the ground together. “Guys-“

Whatever he had been trying to say is cut off as suddenly, both Sandalphon and Lucifer stiffen and snap their heads up to glare at him. He actually steps back at the abrupt movement and is about to ask what is wrong when they both simultaneously thrust out an arm to point towards Gran. He feels a powerful gust of air rush past him as one of Sandalphon’s energy blades hurtles over his shoulder and one of Lucifer’s katanas flies past his side. He hadn’t even seen Lucifer draw his katana. There is a crunch and shriek of pain from behind him as both weapons find their mark in the body of another of the forest beasts that had been sneaking up on the group.

“We’re in the middle of a dangerous area,” Sandalphon growls. “You all need to remember to keep your guard up as well,” he admonishes. His warning is slightly undercut by the fact the he is still slurring his words like he had just had a round of beers, or however many it even took to get an angel drunk in the first place, and the fact that he is still sat on the ground with Lucifer leaning against him and looking like he is diverting a lot of energy to try to not faceplant into Sandalphon’s groin again.

Gran tries to calm the thudding of his heart in his chest. That really had been a close call.

“Well, we should get moving then!” Djeeta interjects, clearly wanting to get the primarchs up before the group has to watch them drunkenly try to feel each other up. Gran is _very_ glad that they had not brought Lyria or Vyrn along with them on this particular excursion.

He grabs Sandalphon’s hand and pulls him up as Katalina offers a hand to Lucifer to help him stand.

It quickly becomes apparent that no one in the group had ever seen a creature such as the one that had affected the two archangels, and none of them have any idea what potion or elixir in their supplies could possibly cure such an effect. It seems they are going to be stuck like this until the condition wears off on its own, or they have the opportunity to do some research and discover a cure.

Rackam stands nearby with a dubious look on his face. “Are you two sure you’re gonna be okay to keep going?” he asks as the group watches them get unsteadily to their feet. Lucifer especially seems unable to balance on his own and holds onto Sandalphon’s arm in a nearly painful-looking grip as he wobbles upright.

“We’re perfectly fine,” Lucifer replies. His voice is surprisingly only a bit shaky in contrast to Sandalphon’s barely discernible mumbles. “We can still be of assistance on this mission.” He lurches over to the dead body of the monster and pulls his katana out. Or at least tries to. He misses the hilt the first two times and Sandalphon has to stumble over to place his hand on it. Lucifer’s brows are furrowed and he has a very confused-looking expression on his face as he carefully sheathes his blade.

If the situation weren’t so serious, Gran might actually have a bit of a laugh at the sight. It seems Lucifer clearly is not used to not being able to make use of his usually immaculate grace. As it stands, two of their most powerful fighters have been incapacitated halfway through their mission when they will be delving into unknown perils and while time is of the essence.

“We will have to be fine.” Sandalphon says, echoing Gran’s thoughts. “We don’t have the luxury to return and bring new members along. It will take you all much too long to get back to this point without Lucifer-sama and I, and that’s not even taking into account the rest of the mission,” he grunts.

The assessment stings, but Gran can’t deny the truth to it. He glances at Djeeta and sees his own reluctant expression reflected. However, they don’t have much of a choice.

Djeeta speaks first, “Alright, let’s keep going then. Let us know if you need us to slow down.”

This quest of theirs is very important. They had met their old friend Siero in the town they had just docked in for a supply run. Upon speaking with her, they discovered that apparently, the son of a friend of hers had fallen prey to the venom of one of the creatures that lived in the forests around these parts, and the only cure was a rare herb found only in a series of caves in the area. However, the surrounding forest and said caverns were completely infested with all sorts of deadly creatures, so it would be a challenge for anyone to acquire the cure. An expedition had already been sent in an  attempt to retrieve the herb, but it had been nearly two days and none of them had returned thus far. It is surely a daunting task, but Gran and Djeeta have the power of fate itself on their side, as well as the firepower of some of the most formidable skydwellers and primal beasts in the sky, so they had easily accepted the task. They would have accepted it even if they didn’t have any of these things going for them, because they were the kind of people who could never turn down a person in need, no matter the circumstances. Unfortunately, it seems that this time, providence is not making things straightforward for them, as the two people on their team who have nearly the power of gods in their hands now have been reduced to a pair of bumbling intoxicated oafs.

They keep trekking onward. They do end up having to slow their pace a bit to account for the drunken limping of the two angels, but it is easy to see that it isn’t nearly as bad as it would have been if it had been two skydwellers under the influence. Surprisingly, despite the fact that Sandalphon is wearing high-heels and appears to be supporting most of Lucifer’s weight against his side, he seems to be walking quite fine and is in fact only a bit clumsier than usual on his feet.

Rackam had initially tried to help them both out by pulling Lucifer’s arm over his shoulder to act as a support, but he had almost immediately had his neck and arm accidentally broken as Lucifer could no longer fully control his strength and had transferred over his inebriated death grip. Now all of the party members were giving them both plenty of distance and relying on Sandalphon’s still mostly intact sense of balance to keep them moving forward.

They miraculously are still mostly able to maintain something close to their original pace through the forest, even as the horde of attacking creatures grows thicker and thicker the deeper they go. Fortunately, apparently even being totally wasted to the point of hardly being able to walk barely affects Lucifer and Sandalphon’s immaculate battle instincts when it counts. Although the angels appear to barely be coherent enough to tell left from right, somehow, Gran and the others are able to rely on them when they need them to use their powers to clear out a swath of beasts, or when they need someone to have their back as they are surrounded by enemies. Watching both Lucifer and Sandalphon dodge and weave between the attacking beasts, their blades flashing almost too quickly to see and leaving severed limbs and bodies in their wake, Gran can hardly even believe that they were both currently utterly inebriated. It only becomes really obvious when either of them stumbles upon landing from an impressive array of acrobatic moves, and in the way Lucifer’s hands shake after each devastating slash of his katanas and how Sandalphon’s energy blades wobble drunkenly through the air before annihilating their target. That, and the fact that every time one of them opens their mouth, they either say something incredibly bizarre and out of character, or let out a moronic-sounding giggle at whatever had caught their attention.

“Sandalphon!” Lucifer calls in a sing-song voice. “Watch this!” he swings his blade in a wide arc and slices several creatures completely in half. Brownish body fluid splatters all over the ground as the corpses crumple to the forest floor. “It looks just like coffee!”

“Wow, Lucifer-sama, you’re so talented!” Sandalphon coos back, appearing for his part, utterly enchanted. Okay, now that Gran thinks about it, Sandalphon acting charmed by Lucifer was just his normal behavior, but being all mushy about it was very unlike him.

Djeeta cuts in from across the field. She is currently back-to-back with Katalina and both of them are fending off a swarm of centipede-like creatures that are closing in around them. “Hey, can either of you give us a hand over here?!” She swings her blade to block the stabbing limb of one of the monsters. She and Katalina are formidable fighters, but the sheer number of enemies attacking them is becoming overwhelming.

Lucifer and Sandalphon both careen their way over to help.

Violet greatswords rain down from above, clearing a large portion of the battlefield. Sandalphon himself shortly dives down from the air and plunges his blade into one of the monsters. “Is this all you were dealing with?” he snaps as he yanks his sword out. “Next time only call me over for something that is actually _challenging_. Unless you skydwellers really are this weak?” he growls, his voice dripping scorn like acid.

“Thanks,” Djeeta mutters flatly. They had already gotten accustomed to the fact that apparently drunk Sandalphon was prone to wild mood swings as well. One moment he would be giggling and laughing along with Lucifer and the next he was furious and spitting caustic vitriol at everyone else in the group. The first time it had happened, everyone had frozen in complete shock, but they soon realized it was just an unfortunate side-effect of the strange dust.

Sandalphon’s mood once again flips, as he sputters, flushing and suddenly looking embarrassed, “T-there’s nothing to thank me for, I’m just doing what is necessary to keep our party moving forward!” he stammers, as though Djeeta had just prostrated herself before him in a demonstration of extreme gratitude.

“Sandalphoooooon,” Lucifer croons. “You’re so _modest_ ,” he giggles as he decapitates several of the centipedes in one smooth motion of his katana. “I’ll treat you to coffee later!” he clumsily lands on the ground, practically smashing into Sandalphon in order to maintain balance.

Gran has no idea how they had managed to not fall straight out of the sky with how lopsided and wild their recent attempts at flying had been.

Somehow, the party works together to dispel the rest of the attacking creatures. Evidently, for the primarchs, millennia spent carving war into their muscle memory is able to overcome even the hazy cloud of drunkenness that has been pulled over their minds. Gran does not understand how that makes any sense at all, but he isn’t exactly going to complain when it is currently working in their favor. He can only hope that their current luck will last them through the rest of the mission, or that the spell will wear off soon, because he really isn’t sure how much longer he can deal with this.

* * *

The party has been marching dutifully along for the past half hour. Their search for the cave has been infuriatingly slow, especially since Sandalphon and Lucifer are too incapacitated to fly ahead to scout out the area.

Currently, the two primarchs are hobbling along, leaning on each other for support. Lucifer keeps trying to walk upright by himself only to immediately waver and grab onto Sandalphon’s arm or shoulder with a vice-like grip, nearly knocking both of them down.

It is pretty frustrating to watch, but no one wants to make another attempt to help them, considering they seem unable to fully control their superhuman strength in their current state.

“You know, it’s fine if you want to hold hands while we walk. It will probably help you balance, and it’s not like we’re going to judge you,” Katalina breaks the silence.

“Yeah. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you guys do couple stuff even though everyone already knows you’re together,” Rackam remarks. “You don’t gotta be embarrassed. They say that lovers that hold hands for longer have more luck in staying together longer too,” he says with a chuckle.

Gran frowns. He’s never heard of anything like that. If Rackam is just messing with them, now might not be the best time, no matter how innocent the intentions.

“A-a _couple_ ? _Lovers?!_ ” Sandalphon repeats, slowing his pace slightly. His brow is furrowed and he says the words with a suspiciously alarmed tone.

Was he just being super drunk or… they…. They _were_ a couple, right? Like, they may be 2000 plus year-old primal beasts with apparently no experience in anything that would be considered normal parts of life by skydwellers, but they _had_ to know what dating was, right?

Lucifer seems to focus in on a different part of Rackam’s statements. “Hold hands?” he mumbles. He turns to Sandalphon, gripping his shoulder with such intensity that Gran swears he hears whatever material Sandalphon’s armor is made of creak as it bends. “Sandal...phon. We should _hold hands_ ,” he enunciates the last two words as though he is speaking about something wondrous and incredible. Either that or he is just having trouble articulating.

“Of course, Lucifer-sama!” Sandalphon answers, clearly instantly distracted by Lucifer. His earlier confusion is completely forgotten.

They two angels reach eagerly for each other’s hand. And they immediately miss, their fingers brushing clumsily past each other. It is actually physically painful for Gran to have to watch them pause, and with great concentration, fumble their fingers together until they can drag their hands into a suitable position to hold hands. They finally end with their palms pressed together and their fingers intertwined in the act of hand-holding. Both of them wear stupidly lovestruck grins on their faces as they walk along while clutching hands. They can’t seem to look away from each other.

Gran looks across at the rest of the party and sees that Djeeta, Rackam, and Katalina all wear expressions that are varying degrees of appalled, pained, and embarrassed on behalf of the two angels.

Nevertheless, Gran thinks it is actually kind of cute that they want to hold hands while drunk. Given what he knows about the two primarchs, he is aware it could be a lot worse, and he honestly doesn’t think he has ever seen any public displays of affection from them other than the Lava Tag Incident, which could have been sort of seen as an accident anyway. He doesn’t mind them getting more of a chance to enjoy their relationship together and feel more comfortable in front of him and the rest of the crew.

10 minutes later, he highly regrets his initial assessment. Apparently, Lucifer and Sandalphon had decided to take Rackam’s words very seriously and had not let go of each other’s hands this entire time. Even while fighting. Although completely ridiculous, Gran honestly normally probably could have forgiven that given that they were powerful enough that they probably would have been just fine standing back and holding hands while using their magical ranged attacks to cut down enemies. That would have been fantastic, in fact. That is not what is happening right now.

Gran and the rest of the group are currently crouched against the ground in a huddle around Lucifer and Sandalphon, too afraid to move lest they expose themselves to the line of fire. Somehow, the two primarchs had decided on right now to try out a new fighting style that involved Lucifer grabbing both of Sandalphon hands and rapidly rotating in a circle so that they became some sort of spinning angel blade of death. Sandalphon’s heels are as deadly as axe blades at the speed Lucifer whirls him around at.

Now, ordinarily, even this would be okay by Gran. He would usually actually think it was pretty awesome that they were doing the kind of move you would expect to see in one of the comic books or mangas that he liked to read. However, Lucifer and Sandalphon are currently drunk. Which means that Lucifer is swaying dangerously as he rotates at high speed, apparently unable to remain in the same spot or to swing Sandalphon at a constant level. Sandalphon’s heels had come close enough that Gran swears some of his hair had been sheared off the top of his head. It _was_ effective against the horde of enemies, however, the monsters practically caving in and disintegrating into an explosion of blood and innards as soon as Sandalphon’s boots contact them, so it had gotten to the point where the group had given up on fighting on their own and were now just crawling underneath the tornado of death and trying not to get taken out in the crossfire.

Even worse than that was, as they had soon discovered, Sandalphon laughed a lot while he was drunk. That would explain why, ever since Lucifer had started spinning him, _he had not stopped laughing._ His face is stretched into a carefree grin, as he lets out continuous peals of bellowing laughter, seemingly uncaring of the fact that his boots and the rest of his body are becoming increasingly splattered with the blood and viscera of the monsters.

Gran has never heard Sandalphon laugh this much before. The most he had ever been privy to before was a few short chuckles from the primarch, and most of them had been sarcastic or mocking laughs too. This uncontrolled cackling sounded downright psychotic, especially against the background noise of monsters roaring and howling their dying cries as they splatter, and it was honestly the most terrifying thing Gran had ever borne witness to in his entire life. Even the sadistic Sandalphon that had unrepentantly caused the cataclysms had not sounded this frightening. This is going to haunt him for the rest of his life, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he heard Sandalphon’s horrifying laughter in his nightmares tonight, or for the rest of the week.

* * *

They eventually arrive at the next leg of their mission: a cave entrance yawning from the side of a mountain.

“So the herb should be somewhere in the lower levels of these caverns, right?” Katalina asks as they gaze into the gaping black maw of the cave entrance. The darkness inside seems as thick as a blanket, swallowing up the bright midday sunlight within a few short feet. Even at the entrance, the cave appears only wide enough for two people to walk side-by-side as they enter.

“Yeah…” Gran replies. He sighs, feeling woefully unprepared for the arduous task ahead, but with full knowledge that they don’t have much of a choice. That sick child does not have much time left. He and his family are counting on Gran and the others to retrieve the cure. “I guess we should get going then.” He lights the lantern hanging at his hip and waits for the others to do the same.

Lucifer simply summons a glowing ball of light to hover near him and Sandalphon.

Djeeta and Rackam lead the way into the cave with Sandalphon and Lucifer following in the middle of the group. Gran lets Katalina go ahead of him, and he takes up the rear.

As they enter, they are immediately accosted by a cool breeze that reeks of mold and dampness. Ominous-looking stalactites and stalagmites protrude from the ceiling and floor like the thousands of serrated teeth of some sort of grotesque monster whose throat they are creeping down.

Rackam holds out a map that the villagers from the town nearby had provided. It is only a crude set of sketches, as most of the cavern system was poorly explored due to how treacherous it was, but it is all they have to go on.

Their lantern light and the glow from Lucifer’s magic orb casts wildly flickering shadows across the cave walls. As they go deeper, the walls become slick with moisture, adding to the illusion that they are traversing down the gullet of some gargantuan creature. Drops of water fall from the stalactites above and splatter onto the heads of the party, making Gran’s skin crawl. Their every footstep sends dull echoes bouncing off the walls. Soon, the path they are heading down splits off into several side tunnels. Rackam consults the map and directs them down one of them. Gran can only hope their guidance is accurate, because otherwise, they would never be able to find anything in this labyrinthian cave system. A few turns later and despite his best attempts a memorizing the way out, he is already hopelessly turned around. Maybe they should have left a trail of breadcrumbs, or unwound a spool of thread.

They keep heading deeper into the eerie quiet.

A sudden cry shatters the placid air of the caverns. _“Help! Help!”_ It sounds like the voice of a young woman. The call sends jolts of alarm shuddering down Gran’s spine.

“We’re here!” Djeeta yells back. “Where are you?”

“ _This way! This way!_ ” This time it is the gruff voice of an older man.

_“Help! Help!_ ” The woman’s voice only screams again same frightened tone as before.

“It sounds like it is coming from that direction!” Katalina points down one of the tunnels.

“Let’s go!” Gran’s heart is pounding. Who knows what kind of peril might lie ahead? But someone is in danger, so they need to help. He rushes forward, only to nearly crash into Sandalphon and Lucifer, who have stopped moving and are blocking most of the way forward. Rackam and Djeeta are already disappearing down the tunnel Katalina had pointed out. “Hey, what are you guys doing?! We need to go help them!” Gran hollers, trying to push past.

Both of the angels start to move forward, but they seem reluctant.

Lucifer murmurs, “Something seems strange. I can’t quite tell what I’m sensing but… all is not as it should be.” His brow is furrowed and a pensive look shadows his face.

Sandalphon mutters, “So you sensed it too.” he rubs at his forehead frustratedly, “Ugh, if only this infuriating spell on me would go away. It feels like I’m sensing everything through a fog!”

Gran has no idea what they are talking about, but he rushes forward anyway. They can deal with whatever is ahead once they get a chance to see it. When they round the corner, they are met with pitch blackness and a strange silence. The tunnel seems to open up to a large chamber. They enter warily, holding their weapons at the ready. The shadows seem to instantly swallow up all the light from their lanterns. Even Lucifer’s magic doesn’t fully penetrate the darkness. Gran feels a pit of dread form in his stomach.

Katalina whispers from beside him. “Wait, where did Captain Djeeta and Rackam go-”

Gran is distracted by the sound of a wet slosh and the feel of something soft give under his foot. He turns the lantern downwards to check what he had stepped on. He bites back a scream. It is the rotting corpse of an erune woman. Enough of her face and clothes remains that he can tell she was dressed in the same style as the people from the village. He can see the grayish white of her mildewing bones between blackened strips of decomposing flesh. As the rest of the party’s casts more of their lights on their surroundings, Gran realizes that the entire floor of the cavern is littered with the bones and half-decayed carcasses of various creatures, some recognizably skydweller and some not. Panic seizes him. “Djeeta! Rackam! Where are you?!” he hollers, fear sending him impulsively rushing forwards.

“Captain, wait!” Katalina hisses, but Gran is too worried to bother with caution right now. Something could have happened to his sister. She could be in danger right now.

“We’re here!” Djeeta’s voice echoes through the cavern. “We’re here!” It sounds like it is coming from the center of the cave.

Gran sprints forward, ignoring the disgusting sounds of the bodies parting beneath his boots with every step.

“WATCH OUT!”

A sudden force shoves Gran roughly to the ground. The lantern shatters on the cave floor and goes out. However, it doesn’t matter, because suddenly the entire cave is illuminated by a bright light as Lucifer throws a large ball of energy into the air to hover near the top of the cave. Head spinning and blinking spots out of his eyes, Gran looks up in shock to see Sandalphon standing above him. He is currently grappling against whatever he had pushed Gran out of the way from. Gran realizes that it is a large gray tentacle wrapped tightly around the primarch’s arm.

“We’re here! We’re here!” Djeeta’s voice calls. Only it isn’t Djeeta.

Gran turns to see that Djeeta and Rackam are at the far end of the cavern. Both of them are almost completely encased in tentacles, and are being held several feet above the floor. Their mouths are covered by the tentacles. They are both struggling violently against their bonds, and Djeeta’s face is red from the effort of trying to cry out from under the restraining limbs.

“ _Help!”_

_“This way!_ ”

“We’re here!” A chorus of voices screech out. At the center of the cavern is the body of a huge, bulbous squid-like creature. It does not appear to have any eyes or any distinguishing features. Dozens of tentacles protrude from its velvety gray flesh. The creature had been imitating the voices of skydwellers that it had encountered in order to lure them here. As Gran watches, the creature lifts itself up to reveal that at the point where all its tentacles join the base of its body, is a massive pinkish maw filled with razor-sharp teeth. The monster starts to pull Rackam and Djeeta towards the mouth.

“No!” Gran yelps, scrambling to his feet. His boots slip on the soggy pieces of corpses strewn across the floor. Some of those bodies had probably been the owners of the voices they had heard that the monster was now using to draw in its next victims. The village’s expedition party could be here. Gran feels sick to his stomach.

He sees a tentacle whip towards him out of the corner of his eye. He raises his sword to block it, preparing for impact. Nothing comes. There is a wet slapping sound from the direction it had been attacking from. Gran lowers his arms to see that Sandalphon had blocked it yet again. The archangel now has the slimy appendages wrapped around both of his arms. Sandalphon glares at him while he struggles against the pull of the tentacles.

“Well? Get going then!” he growls. Violet sparks swirl around him, a sign that he is preparing to summon his energy blades.

Gran hastens to get out of the way. He continues his dash towards where Djeeta and Rackam are captured.

Katalina and Lucifer have already made it there. As Katalina starts to hack at the tentacles wrapping Djeeta, Gran sees more of the creature’s appendages dart towards her turned back.

“Look out!” Gran yells.

A flash of silver, and the tentacles fall to the ground, spasming and leaking fluid across the floor. Gran sees that Lucifer had drawn one of his katanas and severed the attacking arms in a move nearly too fast to see. The squid-creature lets out a screech of pain and waves the dripping stumps.

Gran joins Katalina and cuts the rest of their party free.

As soon as the appendages are off of Djeeta’s face, she yells out, “Don’t cut the tentacles!”

Gran freezes in pulling the now limp limbs off of her. “What do you-”

Suddenly, the air leaves his lungs as a crushing force squeezes around his midsection. His stomach lurches as he is abruptly yanked up into the air. His sword slips out of his hands and falls away to the ground. When his vision finally stops swimming, he sees that the rest of his group has been entangled and lifted up into the air as well. Even the primarchs are caught in the creature’s grasp. Lucifer’s arms are pinned to his sides as he is completely encased by a tentacle that is twice as thick as his shoulder width. The katana he had been holding lies uselessly on the floor, presumably dropped during the creature’s attack. Sandalphon has separate tentacles gripping all of his limbs and another holding his waist. He is snarling and struggling against the fleshy constraints.

“-they multiply.” Djeeta finishes flatly.

“Oh.” Gran can only reply. He notices that the tentacles that are currently wrapping them are the same ones Lucifer had just severed. They are a lighter shade and are coated in a slick sheen signifying that they are newly regenerated flesh.

Rackam, who is currently dangling upside-down, calls to the angels, “So, either of you wanna Paradise Lost this thing before I lose my lunch?” he does indeed sound rather queasy.

“In such close quarters, there’s no guarantee that you all will be safe from radius of the blast,” Lucifer replies with admirable calm. “Also, I believe we have located a source of the herb we are looking for. I wouldn’t risk damaging it now, knowing how rare it is.”

Gran follows his gaze and sees that there indeed is a clump of dark green plants that he recognizes from the drawing Siero had showed them growing underneath where the creature is currently perched.

“So we can’t cut it and we can’t launch a direct magical attack?” Sandalphon mutters from his spot on the other side of the cave. “How troublesome.”

“ _How troublesome. How troublesome_.” The creature mimics. With the way it has all of them trapped, it seems almost as though it is mocking them. The voice it uses sounds indistinguishable from the real Sandalphon’s voice.

Gran shudders. If it really was intelligent enough to lure unknowing travelers in using the voices of other people, maybe even their own friends and loved ones… it was a gruesome thought.

“Ugh!” Katalina lets out a grunt as the monster begins to swing her closer to its open jaws. “Some help would be appreciated!” she yells, squirming against the tight embrace of the tentacles.

Gran can only watch in horror as she is pulled closer. No matter how much he strains against the tentacles, he can’t free himself enough to grab his dagger and cut himself free. He feels so helpless.

Lucifer speaks up. “I will try to free us first, then we will have to target the body and damage it before it is able to regenerate,” he calls, sounding surprisingly level-headed for someone who up until now had barely been able to stand on his own. Despite the fact that most of his body is currently wrapped in the disgusting clutch of one of the monster’s larger tentacles, he had managed to reach the hilt of one of his other katanas.

In fact, Gran is almost certain that the tentacles are actually helping Lucifer by holding him upright. Sure enough, as soon as Lucifer slices through the big tentacle with his blade, he stumbles with its weight still attached to him, even though normally it probably would have weighed nothing to him. The squid creature screeches in pain and flails its limbs, and it is all Gran can do to cover his head and hope he doesn’t get smashed into a wall before Lucifer can do something. He lifts his head enough to check on the primarch’s progress, just in time to see the monster send a cluster of tentacles stabbing towards Lucifer. Somehow, he dodges out of the way of all of them and they instead slam through the stone of the cavern wall behind him. Well, he dodges almost all of them. One of the smaller tentacles that had whizzed over his shoulder had managed to leave a long, thin laceration along his neck. As Gran watches, crimson blood wells up from the cut, dripping down Lucifer’s pale neck. Even from this distance, he can see that the wound isn’t particularly deep.

But that doesn’t matter.

Four brightly glowing purple blades manifest around the creature and immediately slam into its largest tentacles closest to the base of its body.

Gran whips his head around to look at Sandalphon. _We already tried that, it’s not going to work!_ He wants to yell. _I know you’re mad it hurt Lucifer but we need to think about this_ \- the words die in his throat as soon as he sees Sandalphon’s expression. He actually feels a chill run down his spine at the look of pure vengeance reflected in every facet of the primal’s face. Avenging angel indeed. He watches the next sequence of events play out like a scene from some sort of thriller novel.

All of Sandalphon limbs had been incapacitated by the grip of the monster’s tentacles. As Gran watches, Sandalphon cranes his neck to the side and sinks his teeth into one of the tentacles holding his arms. The soft flesh bursts between his teeth like an overfilled water bladder, splattering blackish blood-like fluid all across his face. He snaps his head the other way and rips the tentacle off with a sickeningly wet tearing sound. The monster squeals again and flails its limbs. Or at least, it tries to. Gran realizes that when Sandalphon had launched his blades, this time, instead of cutting through the tentacles, he had now pierced through the ones gripping his party members and pinned them to the ground so that the creature could not move them enough to where they would be hurt in its squirming.

“ _Help! Help!”_ Gran realizes with horror that the creature is now screaming in the voice it had used to lure the party here. “ _Help! Help!”_ The shrill, far too-human cries have his hair standing on end.

Sandalphon, his arm now free, grabs onto the tentacle holding his other arm and closes his fist on it. With a disgustingly loud squelch, it ruptures between his fingers like an over ripened melon. The monster screeches again and sends a rain of tentacles in Sandalphon’s direction. He severs them all and the ones around his legs in one smooth stroke as he draws his sword.

_“Help!”_ The creature wails. “ _Help!_ ”

With a roar, Sandalphon charges towards the monster, darting in between the regrown tentacles that the creature sends to intercept him, or just slicing through them with a fearsome brutality. He steps on some of the ones that land close to the ground, and they pop like fat pustules, spilling their sticky black blood until the floor is slick with it. He reaches the squid-creature’s body and plunges his blade in to the hilt. It sinks inside with a nauseating sucking sound. He rips the sword out and stabs it down again and again and again. Each wet crunch as the blade sinks in feels like the stroke of a butter churner stirring the contents of Gran’s stomach. The air fills with a foul odor like rotting eggs and gutted fish as black fluid and innards flow out of the creature in a deluge while Sandalphon opens it up more and more.

“ _Help! Help! HelpHelpHelpHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELP-_ ”

The monster’s horrible keening cries escalate to fever pitch as it struggles against the merciless onslaught, frantically waving what is left of its tentacles and spasming against the magic blades that pin it down. Its movements are now much weaker, and its regeneration had slowed to a crawl. At this point, Sandalphon seems numb to the limbs that it sends slamming against his body. Gran feels bile rise in the back of his throat. He feels like he is going to be sick.

His world suddenly drops and he falls to his feet before crumpling painfully to the floor of the cavern. He turns to see that Lucifer had made his way over and cut him free from the tentacle gripping him. The angel helps him pull the heavy, now-limp appendages off of him. He feels Lucifer move away to free the others, and he tries to follow, but he can’t tear his eyes away from the spectacle playing out before them at the center of the cavern.

Sandalphon had at some point abandoned his sword and is now tearing into the creature with his bare hands, indiscriminately pulling apart soft fleshy skin and yanking out muscles and innards with a chilling viciousness. The creature’s screaming rises to a point where it is loud enough that the entire cavern seems to vibrate, before it abruptly cuts off. The sound of flesh and organs sloshing and ripping fills the yawning silence. In the sudden quiet, Gran realizes belatedly that Sandalphon is chanting something under his breath.

“ _Don’t touch Lucifer-sama. Don’t touch Lucifer-sama. DON’T TOUCH LUCIFER-SAMA. DON’T TOUCH LUCIFER-SAMA. DON’T TOUCH LUCIFER-SAMA.”_ It is the same words over and over again in a completely unhinged-sounding mantra. Sandalphon is nearly unrecognizable, drenched as he is from head to toe in the black body fluid of the creature. That and the deranged look in his red eyes… it is like they are looking at a completely different person.

Sandalphon finally stops. His chest heaves as he crouches before the deformed mess that is what is left of the enemy they had fought. He slowly rises to his full height, turning to spit a chunk of innards and blood to his side. A heavy silence reigns across the chamber. Out of the corner of his eye, Gran sees that his other group members had been freed, presumably by Lucifer. All of them stand at the edges of the cavern, stunned and unsure of what to do. None of them would dare approach Sandalphon now, especially without being sure whether he has calmed down or not.

None of them except Lucifer, of course.

Gran watches with a pit in his stomach as the primarch makes his way across the battlefield. He seems much steadier on his feet now, as if the gruesome scene they had all witnessed had sobered him. He steps over the battered remains of severed tentacles, heedless of how his boots sink into the thick layer of sticky blood coating the floor. He comes to a stop right in front of Sandalphon. They stare silently at each other for a moment.

Sandalphon slowly raises a hand to his jaw and draws it crudely across his mouth in an attempt to wipe the viscera and fluid off. It only serves to further smear the gory black substance across his face. “Lu...cifer...sama?” he croaks, his voice coming out deep and rough after his rampage.

“Sandalphon.” Lucifer’s voice sounds dangerously neutral. “You-” he suddenly brings a hand up to press against the side of Sandalphon’s face. “You have a bit on your cheek…” he murmurs softly. Gran can now see that he is holding a white handkerchief that he uses to dab at the corner of the other angel’s mouth.

“Oh. Thank you Lucifer-sama,” Sandalphon replies, sounding a bit dazed, voice raw, but otherwise normal. He takes the handkerchief in one of his hands and wipes at his face quite ineffectively, the small parcel of cloth almost immediately soaked through with blood.

Gran can feel the rest of the party breathe out a collective sigh of relief now that everything seemed to be okay and that they had survived this encounter.

Just then, Lucifer speaks again, “Thank you for your assistance, Sandalphon, although you really didn’t need to do all that by yourself. Were you trying to act like a knight in shining armor?” he gushes, ending his statement with a giggle.

Gran swears he can hear the sound of four jaws dropping echo around the cavern. _What the-_

“Oh, it was no problem at all!” Sandalphon bubbles. “Anything for you, Lucifer-sama!” he sighs, letting out a matching light chuckle.

_Oh my Bahamut_ , Gran thinks. _They’re still drunk_ . He wishes there was a cliff nearby because he would be about ready to throw himself off of it. He couldn’t possibly feel anymore like the ground had been pulled out from under him anyway. Either they were still drunk or they were both actually psychopaths that saw no problem with one of them being coated in blood after ripping a beast apart with his _teeth_ , but Gran wants to be able to sleep at night so he is going with the first assumption.

After that, they heal their injuries, harvest the herbs they need, and make their way out of caves. They don’t face nearly as many monsters on the way out of the forest, presumably because the creatures had finally learned that going against their party would be a fatal mistake. Their entire party must have reeked of blood and refuse at this point, if that was not warning enough to any forest dwellers that they were a force to be reckoned with.

They return to the village and are welcomed by a joyful Siero and relieved family, where they hand off their cargo and go to take much needed showers.

Gran feels sorry for the people who had first seen them enter the village, coated in blood and guts as they were and probably stinking to high heaven. Some of them had screamed and he’s fairly certain at least one person fainted. After they had explained the situation, however, the villagers had been kind enough to offer them free entry to their bath house. Seeing them so happy makes breaking the news to them about what had likely befallen their comrades that had previously went searching through the caves even less pleasant.

The villagers fortunately had also recognized the effect Lucifer and Sandalphon were under, and had assured the party that it was indeed just like getting drunk and would wear off by the next day. In the meantime, Gran makes sure to stay on the opposite side of the bath house from the two tipsy primarchs.

* * *

The next day, Sandalphon and Lucifer don’t arrive on the deck of the Grandcypher until well past noon, and once they do they spend most of their time sitting at the dining table nursing their coffee and groaning while cradling their heads in their hands.

_“I feel awful,”_ Sandalphon moans, looking absolutely miserable. He hadn’t even bothered donning all his armor today, and he is hunched over with his elbows on the table and his face buried in his hands. His hood is pulled over his head, obscuring everything but a wild mess of dark hair.

“Skydwellers… truly do this often… for fun?” Lucifer rasps in disbelief. He is leaning back in his seat, and massages his temples tenderly.

“Well, we don’t usually get that wasted on our first time,” Rackam laughs. “And we also usually don’t fight a horde of monsters while we’re at it.”

“I see.” Lucifer sighs.

Gran gets up from the table. “Well, I’m going to go get us stocked up on supplies from the village. And I’m also going to swing by to visit the kid we got the herb for. I hear he’s doing a lot better now. You guys coming?”

Lucifer shakes his head and then immediately seems to regret the action as he winces and rubs his forehead.

Sandalphon just moans again and doesn’t move from his position curled up at the table.

Gran wants to ask them just how much of their quest from yesterday they even remember, but he has a feeling he won’t get much out of them in their current state.

Rackam starts to head out the door. “Well, let’s go then, Captain.”

As he follows Rackam out, he wonders if the two hungover primarchs will really be okay nearly alone on the ship for the rest of the afternoon. He turns back to ask them if they want to at least head back to the bath house in the village or something to relax, when something catches his eye.

Lucifer and Sandalphon are still hunched miserably at the table together. They are both leaning on the table with one arm pillowed beneath their heads, but they are facing each other. In between them, they are holding hands.

Gran snaps his mouth shut and turns back around. Seems like they will be fine after all.


	8. Missed dances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It begins.

The meteor shower lights up the sky in brilliant flashes of silver. But Sandalphon barely spares them a glance. He turns his face away from those lackluster heavens. The stars are dull and lifeless without his shining light beside him.

As year after year passes with him waiting alone in the courtyard, he begins to wonder whether he had dreamed up their midnight dances. He knows better than to selfishly hope for those days again. Lucifer is far too busy and far too important to waste time on such trivial distractions. Even if Sandalphon is somehow important to him, Lucifer still has a responsibility to the world. The entire world comes before Sandalphon. It is only natural. 

But it still hurts. It hurts how little he matters. 

The music he had once joyfully hummed along to sounds grating to his ears, the distant laughter a mockery of his insignificance. 

It wouldn’t be so painful if only he could fulfill his purpose, whatever that may be. If he could at least be useful in some way to Lucifer, then the vast divide between them wouldn’t matter. 

_ Lies. The difference between you two will always matter. _ A voice inside him whispers. 

_ Shut up.  _ He clenches his fists hard enough that his joints creak. 

_ You wouldn’t be satisfied by merely being useful to him. _

_ Shut up. _ He shakes himself, trying to dispel his traitorous thoughts. 

_ You want you and him to be equals. _

He can’t quite suppress the bitter laugh that rips out of him. It echoes harshly across the empty courtyard, swallowed up by the night. What a pitiful realization. The futility of it all is crushing. What meaning is there in his existence? Purposeless, longing for a place he does not deserve and can never attain. He has no place by Lucifer’s side. 

He pulls his knees in close, curling up as tightly as he can, as if he could make himself so small that he ceases to exist. At the very least, he can bury his head in his arms so he no longer has to see that cold, empty sky, that drips meteors like streaks of oil. That cruel sky that has no place for someone like him. The sky that Lucifer loves and puts before him. If only he could tear that mocking horizon down. 

But even that is such a futile and infantile notion. Erasing the sky would solve nothing, and Lucifer would only look at him with such an expression of disappointment. Sandalphon knows that things are not that simple, but these petty, childish notions are just another way to fill his spiraling thoughts as the hours he spends alone stretch on and on. He fills himself with anger, righteous rage and jealousy, hot enough to keep at bay the cold claws of despair.

So he sits there, thoughts raging like wildfire in his mind.

He waits long after the meteor shower has ended, long after the music has been silenced and the partygoers retreat to their beds at home. He waits until the sun breaks through the dark horizon.

Another year wasted.

  
  



	9. Fall

_“I have no need of a useless spare. That scrap will be disposed of at an appropriate time.”_ The words are like a falling axe blade cleaving apart Sandalphon’s world in one fell swoop.

_I’m… just a useless spare?_ Is his first thought, as his world crashes down around him. All his worst fears and his most dreaded conclusions, confirmed in the drone of that cold, blandly clinical voice.

His next thought is, _Why, Lucifer-sama, why aren’t you saying anything?!_

_“Understood”? You UNDERSTAND?_ Are you not the one who is always telling me I am worthwhile? That you find comfort in me? That I don’t need a purpose to have a reason to live? You, who can fell gods with the strike of your blade but can still smile softly and speak fondly of colorful beetles, and fish that crawl on land, and the peculiar skydwellers that keep four-legged animals as companions, as we sit in the garden for a simple cup of coffee? If anything else, I am not still your valuable creation?

As the stifling silence drags on, Sandalphon can take this torture no more, and he turns and flees. He races through the halls, eyes blurred with betrayal and tears that he refuses to let fall.

How could it be, him, just a useless spare all along? How could Lucifer have stood there, and meekly accepted such a devastating conclusion, without giving a single word of defense on Sandalphon’s behalf? It hurts, it hurts more than any of the terrible experiments the researchers had subjected him to. This was a new level of agony that no scalpel or saw or electric shock could ever hope to attain.

And yet, even in this state, Sandalphon knows that he is being unfair. Nothing good could have come from Lucifer defending him. It would only put Sandalphon in greater danger and cast suspicion on Lucifer himself if he revealed the extent that he favored him. Lucifer would be well aware of that. So the logical conclusion would be to do exactly what he had done, and placidly agree with whatever Lucilius said. He knows, oh he _knows_. But it still hurts. Why does it hurt so much? What meaning lies in this pitiful existence of his? He was brought into this world, given sentience, given the capacity to think and feel, and yet he is forced to endure torment after torment, until his mind frays at the seams.

What is the meaning of such an existence? The only conclusion is one he had reached long ago, but had held out hope against for as long as he could. There is no meaning. There is no meaning to life. There is no reason for him to suffer like this. A useless spare, cast aside like worthless scrap.

He looks around to see, to his dismay, that in his blind rush he had somehow found his way to the garden. The shaded garden, where he had shared so many lazy afternoons talking over a cup of freshly brewed coffee with Lucifer. This place that had come to mean safety and sanctuary in his mind, now this too was tainted. A reminder of how temporary his happiness had always been. No matter how many kind words and gentle smiles Lucifer graced him with, the distance between them would always be insurmountable. They would always be the shining light, born of necessity to the world and indispensable to all creation, and the purposeless pawn, used like a lab rat only to be discarded when even that pathetic purpose was obsolete.

No matter how much time they spent with each other, and how much Sandalphon tripped over himself to be that small comfort Lucifer could turn to, they could never understand each other.

He claws at his head, pulling so hard that he feels large tufts of hair tear from the roots. He thought it was enough. It would be enough that he could watch Lucifer’s light from afar. Even if he was a purposeless primal beast, he could still find meaning in his quiet evenings with Lucifer. He had held out his hope like a flickering torchlight against the vast abyss of despair, even as their cups of coffee dwindled until they were near nonexistent. He would still wait, always with his two cups, even if the one grew cold and was left untouched. He thought it was enough.

Was that why Lucifer had not been to their gardens recently? The rational part of Sandalphon knows that it is because he has been busier and busier, sent on more and more tasks by the Astrals, but even then, is that a mere excuse? Had he finally grown tired of his little dressed up doll in courtyard, the dirt-brown caged songbird who could only sing the same tune over and over again?

The tiniest buds of hopes and wishes that had dared bloom inside him turn sour, rotting like meat left out too long in the sun. There is a chasm that grows where his core is, born out of a resentment that gnaws at him like a ravenous beast, growing tepid and curdling like a festering wound.

Unnecessary. Purposeless. _Useless_. How could it have been true all along?

So later, when Belial approaches him in the night, with sickeningly sweet words and sinful promises on his serpent’s tongue, this time, Sandalphon doesn’t hesitate to grasp that forbidden fruit and sink his teeth into it.

 


	10. Pillow Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quiet moment of reprieve, in which some things that need to be said are said.

“Sandalphon.” 

Sandalphon looks up at the sound of his name. He had been in the midst of putting away the books they had just been poring over. Various members of the crew had given them to Sandalphon as gifts for when Lucifer returned and would eventually need a way to learn about the world of the skydwellers while he grows accustomed to his body. Sandalphon is eternally grateful for this generous thoughtfulness on part of the crew. He runs his hand over the cover of one of the books; a traveler’s guide to the regions of the sky world. Soon, once Lucifer is at full strength, they will see these places together. Travel had never particularly interested him before, in fact, he had previously been content to spend most of his days alone in his room or at the edge of the Grandcypher, staring out into the blue abyss. But seeing Lucifer’s eyes light up at the vivid images and descriptions of their world, hearing his curious inquiries about skydweller culture, it was as though he were being shown the world through a new lens. Suddenly, every small thing was infinitely wondrous and beautiful. Things he had taken for granted as just something that was there suddenly felt precious, because to Lucifer, they were marvelous and new. The freedom to enjoy the world he had once protected was so very new. He shakes himself out of his thoughts and sets the book back onto the shelf. “Yes, Lucifer-sama?”

“Will you be retiring to your room to sleep soon?”

Sandalphon chuckles. “No. As if I would go back to my empty room when you are right here,” he scoffs, fondness easily slipping into his voice. He makes his way over and settles down onto the chair by the bed that had been his post every night that Lucifer slept for the past week. As usual, he plans to talk with Lucifer until his body tires and pulls him into sleep, then he will sit at the chair all night and watch Lucifer peacefully rest. He had even started working on a poem dedicated to immortalizing Lucifer’s serene visage. Perhaps he will finish it tonight. 

An unpleasant thought suddenly occurs to him. He had been by Lucifer’s side nonstop since he had returned, simply because now that they were finally together he could barely stand to be away from him for even a few moments, but perhaps, that sort of attention had already grown suffocating? Sandalphon knows that he himself had never been able to endure how the crew had refused to leave him to his solitude while he was recovering the Supreme Primarch’s powers when he first allied himself with them. If it had been Lucifer… then things definitely would have been different, but then again, he had never idolized Sandalphon the way Sandalphon had done with him. “But if you would like me to leave, then I shall do so. I realize that my doting may have grown grating these past few days. I apologize if that is the case.”

“No, not at all. It’s been a relief to have you by my side after so long.” Lucifer smiles, but Sandalphon can see the sorrow in that smile, like cracks upon an ancient and battleworn stronghold. 

He feels an ache in his core at the sight of such an expression. Would the time lost between them always cast a shadow on their lives? He wants to believe it won’t be so. After all, now, Lucifer is free from the shackles that bound him to his position at the spire of the skies and Sandalphon is only Supreme Primarch in name and nothing else. It will take time, but they have a chance to heal the damage of 2000 years. 

Lucifer’s lips pull into a small frown. “It’s just, I haven’t seen you sleep at all since I awoke several days ago. Have you been getting enough rest?”

Sandalphon shrugs. “You know as well as I that sleep is unnecessary for beings such as us. And in terms of rest, I’ve felt completely revitalized each day by simply being able to spend it with you,”  He immediately winces at how silly such a statement sounds, but there is some truth to it. How can he possibly sleep when he could instead spend every waking moment drinking in the _sight_ and the _feel_ of Lucifer being _alive_ and _well_ and _here_? It matters little that he hasn’t slept for nearly a month, even after draining his core for a long time to help remake Lucifer’s body. 

“You should still rest,” Lucifer insists gently. “Even if you don’t need it, it is good for your psyche. I don’t think I’m comfortable with sleeping soundly while you remain awake.”

Sandalphon wants to argue, but the earnest expression Lucifer wears rapidly erodes any and all protests he could have had before they even began. “Very well then. If it’s alright with you, perhaps I can bring some blankets and a pillow here and lay them on the floor?” he suggests hopefully. He knows he is being a bit ridiculous, but just the thought of returning to his own room and sleeping alone for the entire night sounds like an insurmountable obstacle right now. 

“There really is no need for you to make do with the floor. Please, why don’t you… join me in bed?”

Sandalphon nearly chokes at those words, but he manages with effort to swallow his coughing and sputtering. He glances sharply at Lucifer, who is currently serving to highlight the request by pulling aside the bedsheet and patting the space on the bed beside him. Lucifer’s face is innocently neutral as usual, with no indication that he had suggested anything more intimate than sharing a cup of coffee together. And yet, despite his still small pool of knowledge of skydweller customs, and even just his severely limited knowledge of things in the realm of interpersonal relationships, Sandalphon is excruciatingly aware that sharing a bed is not something often done between people who are merely friends. Sharing a bed… is something done between those considered family or perhaps… a lover. A sign of absolute trust and of incredible familiarity. To lay beside another at the time they are most vulnerable and take comfort from the closeness. A type of closeness he had never quite known.

Obviously, he and Lucifer are more than simply acquaintances, and they are not friends the same way they might be considered “friends” with the other primarchs, or even with the Captains and Lyria and Vyrn. Sandalphon had in fact been in situations where he had rested with the Captains and company. Every once in a while, one of them would fall asleep leaning against his shoulder, and he had carried a tired Lyria and drowsy Vyrn in his arms back to the Grandcypher more times than he could count. He himself had even been guilty of dozing off in the Girl in Blue’s disarming presence. 

But this would be different. Different in its deliberateness. In the fact that they would be sequestered alone in Lucifer’s room, the privacy making it more intimate. Different simply in that Lucifer is Lucifer and Sandalphon is Sandalphon and that alone makes things between them at once incredibly simple and infinitely complicated. Every interaction between them was to be measured against the pain and uncertainty and the still too-fresh memories of grief and misplaced rage and ardent longing that threaded the air between them like a tangled spider’s web. 

Even now, Sandalphon isn’t completely sure where they stand. They had known each other for so long, and yet, in that time so much had come to pass that had pushed them together and then driven them apart. They had been close in the garden, but that was a long time and a rebellion and several prisons and cataclysms ago. They had been able to speak frankly for a moment to each other in that garden where Lucifer’s soul had resided, but despite all that had been said, at the same time, nothing had been said at all. He knows Lucifer cares for him, perhaps more than anyone else in the world, if he can be so bold as to assume such a thing, but he does not know how far that affection reaches now that they walk the same sky. _I would be satisfied with any level of closeness, as long as you are here and well_ … is what he wants to think, but he knows better than to lie to himself again. Of course, if Lucifer prefers to remain as merely close friends and companions, then Sandalphon will happily honor that wish for as long as he will have him. 

But Sandalphon knows, that in his heart of hearts, he will always selfishly desire more. He knows from his observations of the crew that skydwellers who are partners often hold hands, and embrace each other when they see each other after they have been apart, or merely because they are able to. They share rooms and often possessions and they are able to lean unrepentantly into each other’s touch at any given time simply because of an established togetherness, like a contract between them. Lately he had been wondering if he could hope to have that with Lucifer. However, he had not been sure how to bring such a thing up, and even if he had known how, he hadn’t wanted to overwhelm Lucifer while he was still recovering. 

He looks down at the space beside Lucifer in the bed. The bed is larger than the one back in his own room, but still is not quite wide enough to be meant for two people without it being a bit of a squeeze.

As if sensing his hesitance, Lucifer backtracks slightly, “If you’re comfortable with it, that is. I think this would be a good solution if you want to remain here and be situated comfortably.”

“If you are alright with it, then I would love to,” Sandalphon replies honestly, although, he wouldn’t have been able to refuse Lucifer even if he had wanted to. Tamping down his misgivings, he shrugs off his breastplate, and then the rest of his armor, and slips into the bed beside Lucifer. Just as he had thought, the bed is too small, so they end up pressed together side-by-side, although he does not find the situation at all unpleasant. The side of his body feels pleasantly warm where he and Lucifer meet. “It is a bit cramped.” he whispers. “I don’t believe this bed was intended for two. I hope you’ll be able to sleep despite these arrangements.”

“I think I’ll manage,” Lucifer hums. He is already starting to sound drowsy, the newness of inhabiting a body easily depleting his energy. 

When Sandalphon turns to face him, he realizes just how little distance there is between the two of them. He would only need to lean forward a mere handslength in order to brush his lips against Lucifer’s smooth cheek. Not, that he would do that, of course. He eventually needs to talk to Lucifer about defining where they stand with each other. After all, silence and assumptions had been what had begun this whole tapestry of suffering that had dragged out between them. But that will come in due time. For now, he needs to let Lucifer rest and regain his strength. 

“I’ve never lain with someone like this before.” Lucifer murmurs. “When I was able to sleep, my bed was always empty save for myself. It is much warmer like this.” He turns to look at him and Sandalphon has to take a moment to catch his breath as he is exposed to the full brunt of the sight of Lucifer’s flawless face so close to his own. 

“Did you ever wish for someone to sleep beside?” Sandalphon breathes, his curiosity piqued. Lucifer had so rarely expressed his own desires. At the time, Sandalphon had thought that those last words he had given in Canaan had been the only time Lucifer had expressed a want of his own. Later on, he had thought surely that could not be true, surely, in all the centuries he had known Lucifer, he had asked for at least one other thing. Had he?

“I’m… not sure. Perhaps. But I knew better than to hope for things that I could never attain,” Lucifer mutters, eyes glazing over and becoming distant.

Sandalphon wonders what he is thinking. Is he remembering the cold and empty years he had spent alone as the Supreme Primarch? To think, that for such incredible power and such grand purpose, behind it all was a vast abyss of emptiness. To Lucifer, that great blue sky had been just as much of a cage as the labs had been for Sandalphon. 

Now he understands. With these twelve wings at his back, so heavy that they seem to try to tear the flesh from his bones, now he comprehends just a little of the weight that Lucifer had borne all those years. He leans just a little closer to Lucifer. “You can wish for things now. We can do this more often, if you want. We can do this every night. You can ask me for anything, I’ll try to provide it if I can,” he murmurs. Best not to leave anything unsaid now, even if he ends up saying too much. 

“Thank you, Sandalphon, I think I would like that a lot.” Lucifer replies with a smile. Then, the smile falls and he hesitates, his brow furrowed, “That is, if you want to do this as well.” 

Sandalphon smiles back, warmth rushing through his core. “Of course I do,” he replies immediately. He is rewarded by the sight of the uncertainty draining from Lucifer’s face. But, at the same time, it doesn’t feel like enough. Lucifer shouldn’t feel like Sandalphon is the only one he can rely on to fulfill his wishes. There is so much that Lucifer deserves, and so much that Sandalphon can not provide him alone. Luckily for them, they don’t have to do everything alone anymore. At that thought, he can’t help but let out a chuckle, which causes the other archangel to give him a confused look. “If you have anything you wish for, you can ask the crew as well. I’m sure they would trip over themselves to procure it for you. You probably don’t even have to ask and they’ll drag you into things anyway. I’d say that you will probably get tired of them soon enough, but I suspect you’ll have much more patience for their schemes than I do.” He thinks back on how often the Captains and Lyria had prodded him into joining them on silly excursions. He hadn’t appreciated it at the time, but now he is certainly grateful for the endless patience they had shown him, and the distraction they had provided instead of allowing him stew in his own misery like he had wanted.

Lucifer also lets out a soft laugh at this. “I see. I’ll keep that in mind. It seems I have quite a bit to look forward to.” Then, in a more hesitant tone, “Sandalphon, do you really think… I could become friends with the other primals and skydwellers aboard the ship?” he asks quietly. His eyes have once again taken on that nearly blank, distant look, staring off past Sandalphon onto some unseen horizon. It is like his body and soul are here with Sandalphon, but his mind still drifts between memories and worlds and dreams. 

    

 Sandalphon turns onto his side to face Lucifer. He instinctively reaches out to wrap an arm around the other’s waist to pull the two of them closer together. _I want you here with me_ . He freezes for a moment, realizing he may be going too far. Heat flashes across his face and where his hand touches Lucifer’s thinly-clad back. But Lucifer does not show any signs of discomfort as he looks at Sandalphon, and he even turns onto his side as well and leans in closer, pressing their chests together, so he stays as he is. Warmth radiates out from every point of contact between him and Lucifer and he feels as though he is encased in a sphere of comfort and safety. He hopes that Lucifer feels the same. “I think you’ve _already_ gained the friendship of the Singularities and the red dragon and Girl in Blue,” he murmurs. “As for the rest of the crew...they’re already quite taken with you and most of them have barely spoken a word with you. Soon you’ll have the entire population of the ship at your feet. They’ll fall hopelessly in love with you.” _Just as I have._

Lucifer smiles, but it turns bittersweet at the edges. “I think you have a far too high opinion of me. People don’t usually want to become close to me.” 

Sandalphon nearly jolts to a sitting position at that, momentarily shattering the cocoon of quiet peace they had woven up until that moment. 

Lucifer stares at him, now much more awake than he had been minutes ago. 

Sandalphon hurriedly settles back under the covers. “Sorry. It’s just- have you _met_ yourself?” he sputters. “You attract others like moths to a flame!” 

Lucifer furrows his brow. “Do I? I never was able to become close to any of the other primarchs or the archangels.”

 _Oh_. So that is what had been bothering Lucifer. How could he forget the way the angels always stiffened to attention and stifled their conversations when Lucifer drew near? The other primarchs hadn’t even called him by his name to his face. Sandalphon himself, despite all the lines he had crossed with Lucifer, had always been conscious of the thin ice he treaded on, of the lines that he couldn’t cross. Come to think of it, what did Lucifer think of him calling him “Lucifer-sama?” Did he take it as the sign of utmost respect Sandalphon intended it as? Or was it another way someone had kept him at arm’s length? “That was because they feared your rank as Supreme Primarch. Or, more specifically, they feared the vast difference between you and them. It was all artificial distance created by the Astrals who wanted to make us into tools and you into a symbol. We were all made to think we weren’t worthy of becoming close to you, without any consideration for your feelings on the matter,” he scowls at the memories of the restricted existence. ‘Now that we are all able to live as people, that should no longer be a problem.”

“I see. That is a relief to hear.” Lucifer closes his eyes, seemingly in contentment, but Sandalphon somehow feels that his concerns have not been fully assuaged yet. 

Sandalphon’s words are just words after all, and he had proven time and time again that his own judgement is not always to be trusted. After over 2000 years of loneliness, Lucifer needs something more tangible than hollow assurances and pretty utterances. “Tomorrow, let’s spend more time with the crew. I think it is a shopping day. They are always looking for people to come along to help carry things. Most of the crew will be relaxing onboard after that, so you can meet more of the members properly. Then you’ll see.” 

“That sounds... wonderful.” Lucifer whispers. His voice is already growing faint again, his body at its limit as sleep slowly claims him. 

“Truly,” Sandalphon continues, wanting to drive home his point, “your very presence is at once relaxing and invigorating. It is like the first breath of fresh air at dawn, as one soars high in the atmosphere above the clouds.” Sandalphon realizes how accurate it is the moment the words leave his mouth. He had just been grasping at wisps for an adequate way to describe the aura Lucifer exudes, and somehow landed upon the perfect metaphor. A breath of fresh air at the moment light first breaks across the horizon. As he stretches his wings to their widest berth and revels in the sharp lash of cool wind and warm sunlight across his feathers. The feeling of freedom. He himself had never truly experienced that moment until recently. He must have soared that high at some point during the rebellion, and he had certainly taken to the skies during the cataclysms, but he had been too consumed with his own hatred and misery to appreciate it then. “Truly,” Sandalphon repeats absentmindedly. “Supreme Primarch or not, you will always be our light bringer… just because you are you.” his voice comes out quiet and thick with sleep. Sandalphon realizes, to his dismay, that the warmth and comfort of the bed is also rapidly putting him to sleep as well. He tries to focus back in on Lucifer’s face. 

Lucifer’s eyes are still closed, but his expression looks peaceful and relaxed. Sandalphon wonders if he has fallen asleep after all, but then he opens his luminous blue eyes for a moment and gazes into Sandalphon’s own. 

“Thank you… Sandalphon.” 

Nestled against each other, they both allow sleep to draw them into her gentle embrace.

 


	11. The Rebellion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out of one cage and into another.

The rebellion. A chance to take revenge on the titans that crushed angels like him under their heel and told him he was nothing. Soon, he would burn it all down, or, failing that, he would fall, down, down, down to the depths of the skies until the Crimson Horizon tears the feathers from his back and unmakes him into the dust from whence he came. Either way, it would be a sort of freedom, an escape from this meaningless and futile existence that had been carved out for him with no regard to his thoughts and desires. 

 _Free_. The thought would make him laugh if the situation were not so dire. Still, the idea settles within him like a heavy coal in his gut. It sinks through him to join the embers of rage and envy that have burned inside him for so long. Its weight within him, just as much as the blazing inferno of his rage, is what gives him the resolve to defile his blade with the blood of his former brethren on the battlefield. He holds it close to him, as he claws at his rotting and boiling flesh to drag out the anger and fury that have driven him for so long. Hatred and resentment finally finding release in the nauseating crunch of his blade sinking to the hilt in the body of one faceless angel, and another, and another.

Of course, even such a bleak hope for a pale facsimile of freedom is far too much to ask for. 

His anger serves him well, or perhaps it doesn’t, for it keeps him tethered to this world, even as he tears apart and is torn apart by the endless waves of creatures that prowl the halls of Pandemonium. If his body did not ache so badly, split at the seams with exhaustion and rage, perhaps he would have laughed at the irony of it all. To have escaped one prison for another. Did Lucifer think it a mercy to trap him here, fighting wave after wave of mindless beast for all of eternity instead of giving him the sweet nothing he so desperately craved? 

He could have at least gifted him with a death at his hands. It would only have been fitting for the light that had brought him into this cruel world to free him from it. But of course, he doesn’t even matter enough for Lucifer to bother sullying his hands with his blood

The rot spreads like a malady, churning and bubbling beneath his flesh. He knows he could let himself die at any time, or he could end it himself upon his own blade, if he is afraid the fangs and claws of the beasts would be too painful. 

And yet, some part of him recoils at the thought, even as the hours fighting for his life stretch into days and weeks and years. Every fiber of his being burns, _aches_ for revenge. It consumes him, like scalding black tar that clogs his throat and fills his lungs, pulling him into the silent abyss. He claws at his skin to tear it away only to find it _is_ his skin, it _is_ his flesh and muscle and bone. He is the rot. He has become the putrid contamination he had nurtured within, if he had ever been anything else. 

He looks up at the sky. He can’t see that hated blue from here, but he knows it’s there, beyond the red of this prison. If this world has no need of him, then he will make it burn. He will make the sky nothing like it had reduced him to nothing but this rot. 

(The sky that Lucifer looks at instead of him.)

It makes no sense. The sky, if it is there, does not stare back, but if it could, he imagines it would be cold, unblinking, unyielding, blue, like how Lucifer’s eyes must have looked as he struck down their pathetic rebellion. There is no solution, no refuge to be found in the destruction of the sky. The skydwellers whose songs he had once danced to in days so bright and halcyon he doesn’t know if they had been real, whose exploits he had spent hours upon hours listening to as if spellbound, reduced to nothing but ash. And yet, his thirst for revenge demands it.

This endless cycle of suffering and spite will only end if he brings everything crashing down, or he dies trying. 

Centuries pass, his weaponized thoughts spiraling deeper and darker, layers upon layers of anger and self-hatred caking his core like a cankerous mold, sinking their roots to the bone, to his very marrow, to the deepest reaches of his soul. _Vengeance,_ his every nerve screams. There is no meaning and there is no reason, so what use is there for logic and rationality either? He peels them away from his mind like bloody strips of flesh. 

Before he feels the black void of freedom, he wants to have his revenge. He pictures himself, how he will bring the world crumbling and shattering upon itself like a tower with its foundation ripped out. 

He will sink his teeth into the world’s throat and tear the flesh from bone. How sweet that golden ichor will taste, the thick rivulets of lifeblood running down his chin, growing cold as the vigor drains away. He lets this sick fantasy fuel him as he rends apart the beasts that seek endlessly to destroy him. In his mind, that figure he devours over and over again has skin like pale porcelain and hair like white gossamer. Their eyes are always shut in the silent shroud of death, but he imagines they would be blue like the sky. 

He gives in to the insanity.

 


	12. Cataclysm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events of wmtsb1 from the perspective of a certain "villain."

He covers his face. Best to not let them know his true identity, although he is sure it wouldn’t make a difference to the skydwellers in the end. He speaks big things, waxing rhetoric about the new world he will create. Let them think he is some sort of narcissistic villain with grandiloquent visions. It doesn’t matter that he has no idea what will come next after he makes the world burn. 

He shudders as he brutalizes the primarchs. _So this is what it is like from the other side._ He can’t help but feel the pleasure that ripples through him at the sight of them on the ground and writhing in pain. Strong Uriel, stern Raphael, proud Michael, they were all the same when they’d been stomped face down in the dirt. He grips their wings at the base and _tears_ , oh, he tears, and the feel of the flesh ripping, and bones snapping, and tendons and cartilage popping and cracking apart, reverberates through his entire body. He wrenches the live nerves from their very cores the way a gardener would yank a weed out of the ground, roots and all. Their screams are a welcome melody to his ears. He would make them scream more if he could. He would pluck each and every feather until they were spasming and frothing at the mouth. Until they were begging to die. If he had the time, he could make the mighty primarchs feel just a bit of what he had felt back in the labs while they closed their eyes and turned their regal heads away. 

Of course, Gabriel sees right through him. Out of all the primarchs, she was the most crafty, which is why he had saved her for last. The others had been child’s play; grown bloated on self-assurance like well-fed pheasants, complacent with millennia of peace. It had been far too easy to ambush them and tear the feathers from their backs. 

But, they had at least been smart enough to warn Gabriel.

Gabriel’s tongue is as sharp as a knife, and her words cut through him like the searing blade of a scalpel. It fills him with rage and fear, bubbling up like hot refuse from the wound. She makes him feel small, when he just wants to finally feel big. It isn’t fair. The power of a god at his fingertips and her chiding words make him feel like the dirt beneath her heel. Even now, the other primarchs and even the meddling skydwellers that had allied with them look down on him

Foolishly, he lets himself get distracted. He realizes, but it is too late, her wings are nothing but dust emptying into the sky. “It doesn’t matter,” he tells them, and he’s not sure who he is trying to convince. It shouldn’t matter, but it still stings to be thwarted. He had at least wanted to feel all eight of their wings at his back, to truly stand at the apex of the world. 

Maybe then, Lucifer would finally look at him.

He hadn’t looked at him even as he brought islands crashing down. He hadn’t looked at him when he sent his army of virtue cores to cleanse the world. 

Why?

Why won’t you look at me?

He gathers the power of the wings within him. He makes himself as big as he wants to feel. So he can tower over the others. _Now I am the one looking down on you_. He could crush them between his fingers like ceramic dolls. He can topple this world from its pedestal and send it plunging down into the void below. 

Lucifer still doesn’t look at him. 

It shouldn’t matter that Lucifer doesn’t care. That he isn’t worth enough for him to even show his aura, let alone come confront him. He is so close to sinking his teeth into the sweet fruit of revenge. And yet…. He still feels so small. Even in Lucifer’s complete absence, Sandalphon feels like a miniscule ant at his feet. 

The power of a god and he still fails. The wingless primarchs and the ragtag band of skydwellers knocks him out of the sky and brings him plummeting down into the dirt. He had underestimated them. Was the power of the Singularities really greater than that of a god? 

They look down on him again, his weak and battered form as they decide how to suitably punish him. 

The Singularities. Another set of beings born of necessity. How did it feel to know that the world spun and the seasons changed, and fate wove itself for you? Of course, they look down on him too. They could never understand what it was like to be so utterly wretched that destroying the world is the only way to be worth something. 

He smiles at them. “At least let me shake your hands.” He knows they don’t trust him, but he makes himself look as pathetic as he feels, so they have no reason to think him a threat anymore.

He laughs as he shoves them into the void. Now they will understand how it feels to be powerless, to be helpless as they spiral to their doom. Now he is the one looking down on beings so necessary they are entwined with the fabric of the world itself. He laughs as the red dragon and the Girl in Blue try to unravel reality itself to save them. _Good, let me hear that roar that shook the world to its marrow. Break the seal on Pandemonium and destroy the world in my stead!_ He will die after this, but at least he will ruin the world a little. His filthy hands will claw a tear in that beautiful blue tapestry of the sky, leaving a mark that will scar its visage for all eternity. 

Again, he is a fool for allowing himself even this most miniscule of hopes. 

The Singularities live. 

Lucifer himself thwarts his final act of revenge. 

He still doesn’t look at him. 

Even in all his shining glory, risen from the depths of the Crimson Horizon, he looks at the skydwellers first. He addresses the four primarchs. He reveals how he had seen ahead and had the foresight to hold the seal of Pandemonium closed. As though Sandalphon’s plan to bring the world down with his own hands had been nothing but a footnote to the much greater concerns of the supreme primarch. As though the islands falling and the virtue cores destroying and the way he kicked the primarchs as they writhed in the dirt had been no more concerning than a fly buzzing at the head of a mighty beast. 

Lucifer finally looks at him. 

Even now, that purifying light cuts him to the core. His throat still goes dry in awe. A small part of him, a part that he thought had died long ago, still yearns to reach for that wonderful, blinding light. Beneath the festering rot within him, a part of him cries out for Lucifer. It takes more strength than it should for him to stop himself from falling to his knees before that glorious light. To praise those wings that block the sun but somehow shine even brighter than daylight. Lucifer casts his luminous shadow on Sandalphon and his mere presence demands that he prostrate himself before him and beg for mercy. 

He knows better. He knows he is beyond forgiveness now. They could flay him alive and wait for the skin to regenerate, tear him apart limb from limb and recreate his entire body; they could even replace his core, but he would still be stained with sin down to his very soul. 

So instead, he coats himself in his rage, the lets the pent up anger of two millennia bubble up like a ruptured pustule. He spews searing vitriol at Lucifer, he words caustic and intended to rip and tear and burn. He wants to draw blood. He wants Lucifer’s face to twist with pain and anger and sweetly rotten emotion. If he can’t ruin the sky, he will at least ruin Lucifer’s flawless face just a little. Lucifer has so much more meaning to him than the sky anyway. He wants to see that perfect marble face marred with agony or rage or sorrow or hatred. Anything. _Anything_. 

Anything to let Sandalphon know that he matters. That he’s worth enough for Lucifer to feel anything at all about, even if it is nothing but scorn. 

But instead, Lucifer gives him the worst thing of all. 

 

_“Your lack of role allowed me to look upon you as my equal. Your purehearted words would always instill me with such tranquility. Forgive me for not noticing your feelings of inferiority earlier.”_

 

No. _No._ He feels himself cracking, shattering, splintering down to his core. _Hate me! Destroy me!_ Punish _me!_ He hears himself scream. _Anything but this_. This terrible, awful, overwhelming… _forgiveness_ . If he is forgiven now, his vengeance means nothing. His rage and anger would have all been for naught. The lives he took, the pain he suffered, the _isolation_ . If his revenge means nothing, then _he_ is nothing because he _is_ his vengeance and it is all he has left. He is crumbling, breaking, splitting apart at the seams. The tenuous threads sown by his fury that have held him together all this time finally come undone. _Kill me. Just kill me. This hurts too much. I can’t possibly break any more._ He wants to scream, he’s willing to _beg,_ but the words won’t come.

Lucifer reaches his aura out to him. For a moment, that golden light envelops him. It washes over him, it fills the cracks in his core, it surrounds him with a gentle warmth that tastes like summer day. For a moment, the chaos in his soul silences. 

“Take solace in my core, Sandalphon.” 

Some part of him instinctively is aware of what is about to happen right before it does. He cries out, because that deeply primal part of him, despite everything, still naturally is afraid of death. “Lucifer-”

The light pulls him apart.   

* * *

 

His prison is far too beautiful. 

But it is also much too quiet. Maddeningly perfect. Nothing to distract him from his own tumultuous thoughts, perhaps for all eternity. 

This prison is far too cruel. 

He laughs, and it comes out unhinged, but no one is here to hear him. He had asked for punishment had he not? Well, this is it. His reward, for being so utterly wrong for thousands of years. Lucifer is far too kind and yet far too cruel to grant him the death he had so craved.

With nothing left to destroy, and nothing left to hope for either, he surrenders.

 


	13. Alone in Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You weren't the only one. If only you didn't realize it far too late.

“If you need me, I’ll be in the garden-“ You have to cut yourself off, a stinging pain throbbing in your chest. You fight the urge to clutch at your breast. You know there is no wound from blade, or mana, or shrapnel to be found there. The cut runs far far deeper than that.

Gabriel, astute as ever, notices you falter, and voices her concern.

You are not injured, but you are tired. Everyone is. Of the strife, the betrayal, and the bloodshed this uprising had caused on both sides. You might even go as far as to say that you are indeed unwell. Angels you once considered your friends and comrades had cursed you and cut you and railed tooth and nail against you, and all for what? To what end had they struggled and given their bodies and lives for? You quickly dismiss her worries. They need you to be strong now more than ever. Their unwavering leader. You can’t afford to burden them with any of your own unnecessary concerns. Especially when you yourself are still scrambling to piece together all that had happened.

You had not been given the luxury to make sense of things before the ground was ripped out from you and the world sent crashing down in flames.

Lucilius, your dear friend, who you have not always agreed with but still trusted and respected; he headed a ploy to use your brethren as fodder to fuel the engines of his sinister legacy. The heart that you do not have and should not have lies bleeding and fractured in the cavity of your chest as you are forced to cut him down for the sake of the world. Like a cold and unthinking machine, you cleave away everything that does not align with your singular purpose. But unlike a mindless drone, every sweep of your blade, severing ties and lifelines, pains you as well, pierces you to the core, and hollows you out until you feel like you are a puppet being dragged along by already slit strings. 

Belial, your friend and maybe even like kin to you, closer than kin, if you could hope to comprehend what that meant, he leaves you as well. Betrays, if that is what you can call it, when perhaps you are the one who failed him, something about your very nature so flawed and defective that you chase away everyone that you held dear. The haunted look on his face as he takes in the limp and bloodstained body of your creator at your feet wrenches at your core. It is the last thing you want to do, but machine that you are, if he threatens the sky, you must cut him down too.  

“You must think me a villain, for being willing to watch the world burn, all for the sake of the one I love,” he cackles, voice rising and trembling like a thousand shards of broken glass as he kneels on the floor and cradles Lucilius’ body. “But if you want a monster, take a good, _long_ look at yourself, _Lucifer!_ ”

The first time he uses your name in years,- not Supreme Primarch, not Chief of Heaven- he spits the syllables like something foul from behind his lips.

You had once wanted desperately to be thought of as "Lucifer," but you didn't know he was the blood slowly leaking drop-by-drop between curled fingers, each plop onto the soaked tiled floor the loudest sound that has ever reverberated through the echo chamber of your soul; the cold empty hall, choked with the breath of decay after war and the stillness of devastating revelation; the pool glossy as obsidian spreading languidly across the stone to steep the soles of your boots. 

 

“ _After all, it_ _was by your own hand that you sealed your precious Sandy in Pandemonium._ ”

 

Later on, after you have replayed that moment over and over again in your mind, you can at least appreciate that that was the perfect thing Belial could have said at that instant. You falter, only for a moment, but it is enough for Belial to thrust his crimson blades at you, forcing you to defend yourself, and that buys just enough time for him to disappear over the edge of the island with the head of your once dear friend clutched in his arms.

You order a manhunt and your adjutant herself chases after him, but you have a feeling that you won’t find any trace of him. He always has been the craftiest of the angels, and even you in your supposed “perfection” have never been able to keep up with him. You search high and low across the skies and find no hide nor feather of the fallen angel. He has thoroughly slipped through your fingers, another loose end in the already fraying tapestry of your once proud order. You call off the search soon enough. You only have so many at your command at the moment, and your ranks are thinned and worn down from the rebellion. Morale is so low it could sink to the depths of the Crimson Horizon. If you push any harder, you might have another mutiny on your hands.

 

Your solace is gone. Your haven, your anchor, your crimson Aegis. Your Noah’s ark, your shelter from storm, the russet autumn sundown to your pale morning star; gone, gone like a dappled feather carried aloft in a gale. Your cornerstone lies shattered, the roots of your World Tree devoured by the serpent, the smoldering fire in your hearth snuffed out like one of the flickering lamps that Lucilius used to read by long into the quiet hours of the night. You don’t know how or why, you only know that you are the one who tore down your sanctuary with your own two hands.

Belial really had known you well, better than perhaps anyone. His words had been the deadly strike of a serpent, sinking its fangs straight into your core and pumping the venom deep into your veins. It had hurt the first time, of course, and the snake had slipped away while you lay reeling and clutching at the bite, but long after comes the true damage, the toxin coursing through every capillary and poisoning your every thought thereafter until you sit awake every night and wonder whether you should have let his blades find their mark after all.

 

You fashioned a tawny hawk out of the finest clay of the earth. You breathed life into it and nurtured it and cared for it and protected it. And in return, it flourished and prospered, and it sang its wild and fierce and core-shaking cry for you and you alone. And in time, you grew to care for it, and you treasured it above all, and you dared to dream to one day soar the wide blue skies with him by your side, and your wingtips would brush while you flew and you would chase each other through the heavens, diving and dipping along the wind currents until your lungs were burning and your shoulders ached like Wrath, but it would be alright because you could hold him close as the sun slipped below the horizon, and you could brush your fingers through his hair and he would put his hands on your waist, like he used to do on those fleeting nights under the starlight, and he would murmur in your ear, or perhaps sing, and his voice would resonate through your entire being down to the depths of your soul, and finally, you could press your chests flush together, only this time you would not be wearing armor, and maybe you wouldn’t be wearing anything at all, until you could feel his tempered skin and his scorching heat and the humming of his core, and you would hum in tandem, each wavelength synchronizing and overlapping just like your shells twining and pulling closer and closer until there is him and only him and nothing else-

 

You sit alone in the garden, the cup of coffee you cradle in your hands long grown cold. There is one across the table from you, untouched. You should have stopped making it, because you are only tormenting yourself over and over again, reopening the wound every time you pretend like you could look across from you and see him still there. You should have stopped coming back here at all, because it only hurts you more each time, your memories of a bright voice greeting you, of a flash of dark hair and vermilion eyes, overlapping with and superimposing over the scenery around you. And yet you are drawn here, again and again, a creature of habit, turning the same pages of the same old memories and hoping each time to find a different answer. 

At first, you maintained the garden. You used just a bit of your energy to sweep the cobblestones and trim the bushes and coax the most reluctant of flowers into bloom. It looked the same as the old garden and that felt like sin. The garden you knew and treasured is gone. Your regal hawk whose wings you painted with the most resplendent shades of burnished copper, you adored him and you tried to hold him close, and in doing so you smothered him and choked the life from him until he withered and faded in your grasp like a wilting head of yarrow. Your solace is dead, and everything that was once beautiful and dear to you, like this garden, died along with him. You let the garden age and grow over and rot, just like the bond between you two had rotted and shriveled away. Perhaps it was what he would have wanted. 

Wants, wanted. He isn’t actually dead. He lives on in that prison of darkness and brimstone, locked away by your own murderer’s hands, and you don’t know if that is better or worse. He lives and breathes, but he surely must curse your name with every pain-wracked breath that draws mildew and cinders into his lungs. You would hope he finds peace, but you know Hope is dead and lies decaying and stripped somewhere on that barren battlefield where you bloodied your hands with the essence of the most wretched of your brethren.

You don’t dare to hold anyone close ever again, for they always left you and destroyed you, or more likely, you were the one, who by your very monstrous nature, pushed them away and destroyed _them_ . Your primarchs keep you at a distance, and you do nothing to close the divide that opens like a gaping chasm between you. You try to ignore how it stings when you catch them smiling and laughing and joking with each other. They would never show such carefree behavior to you. What you would give to experience that, just one more time, just one more night of drinking after patrols, just one more rainy day spent in the library, just one more coffee with him… and this time you would cherish it, cherish _him_ , like nothing else. 

Every time you soar above the islands, you feel your senses drawn to Pandemonium, where is stands like a pestilent tumor on the borderline between worlds. It feels like a thread chained to the heart of your core itself leads you there, a cursed compass that only directs you towards your misery. Every time, you have to fight to urge to descend down there, to indulge the foolish part of you that begs for just one glimpse of copper-tinged wings and tapered blade-sharp shoulders. In your darkest moments, you wonder if it would really be that unthinkable to loosen your seal and unleash armageddon unto the world, if it means he will soar the same sky as you once again. If he doesn’t try to strike you down first, perhaps, by your side, you could vanquish the malevolence that threatens the world all over again, only this time, together, you could tamp it down to the deepest pits of Tartarus where it would never touch the light again, and at last, he would fly beside you, purpose or lack thereof holding neither of you down.

Still, every time, you manage to turn your course away, and you let your hopeless delusions remain just that. 

 

Lucilius must have lied when he called you his perfect creation, because why would a perfect being ache like this, and hurt like this, and feel this hallowing emptiness down to his very marrow the way you do? If he wanted to make you perfect he would not have given you the ability to think and to feel and to yearn for everything that had slipped through your fingers like ashes from a once blazing pyre. He should have just made you into the mindless tool he wanted, and then you wouldn’t have to endure this endless feeling like shattered glass shards being ground bit by painful bit into the pulp of your core. 

The sun still rises, the world still turns, evolution yet runs its neverending course. The heavens still shine that boundless blue. There is still beauty, but there is no one for you to report it to and to discuss meaning and theory with into the vestiges of night; there is no one who will greet you when you return from your patrol and pat your shoulder too-casually while immediately launching into the next outlandish tale or a coquettish joke. There is no one who will listen with wide eyes and enraptured stare as he soaks in every detail of your sightings as you recount them, no matter how long you drone on or get caught up in the most mundane of descriptions. Alone, you soar across the endless horizon, and the sky has never felt more vast and empty.

* * *

When you awaken, there is liquid dripping down your cheeks. You push aside the cold, sweat-damp sheets and sit up stiffly in bed, drawing your knees in close to your chest. Your hands are shaking. Your whole body is shaking. You hug your legs tightly against yourself. You feel like a hollowed out clay doll, brittle and ready to crumble at the lightest of touches. You feel rattled to the core. 

The weak pale glow passing through the window tells you that it is still early enough that the barest traces of dawn have just begun to make their presence known. You won’t be able to fall back asleep. You won’t be able to sleep for a while. 

You close your eyes and feel for the supreme primarch’s power. Nothing. Still nothing, as it had been the last time you tried, and the time before that, and the time before that. Drained in one colossal attack, it slumbers inside you, an ocean reduced to a smattering of drops. You feel so utterly alone, and you know you deserve to feel like this, but that doesn’t change just how awful it is. This is beyond pain. 

You reach a trembling hand to the top drawer of the bedside table and shakily tug it open. It gets caught on some imperfection in the wood, and that doesn’t surprise you, that your unsteady hands would fail to ease it open smoothly. From a simply-crafted wooden box inside, you delicately remove a single pure white plume. The last plume. The one feather left that has not been tainted by the foul touch of your back and the sinful infection of your core. Lucifer’s feather. You don’t deserve this last remaining comfort, but you feel small and lost enough right now that you will take it anyway. Over the pride that you have no right to maintain now, that had drained from your body while you slept and settled somewhere in the floorboards of the lowest levels of this ship. 

You curl inward and cradle the feather close to your breast. You stay like that for a long time.

 

 


	14. Coffee talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they learn a bit more about skydweller culture (?) and some more words that need to be said are said.

Today they decide to have their morning coffee on the upper deck of the Grandcypher.

Sandalphon approaches a table on the upper deck and sets down his cargo. In one hand, he had been holding a coffee strainer and a bag of beans. In the other, a stack of books and travel guides to the region of islands they will be sailing into soon. The Captains had set a course for these islands, and the crew had graciously provided an ample stash of travel guides and brochures so that he and Lucifer could plan a mini-tour of all the attractions skydweller cultures there had to offer. Just looking at the brightly colored pamphlets fills him with a buzz of anticipation. When was the last time he had genuinely looked forward to something like this, without the crippling fear of all that could go wrong looming over him?

He notices that someone had already placed a book on their table, cracked open with its pages down and spine up. The cover looks rather colorful and displays what seems to be two characters drawn in the “manga” style that he had seen crew members like Lunalu create content in. He had often seen the Captains reading this kind of book, and quite excitedly too. Upon closer inspection, the cover drawing appears to be of a dark-haired fallen angel with towering red horns, massive black feathered wings, and spike-tipped tail clutching possessively at a fair-haired nymph clad in ornate-looking armor. The pose they are depicted in reminds him of the archangels of instruction Halluel and Malluel, and how they always appear with their hands all over each other and their bodies entwined together. Sandalphon personally questions how comfortable it is to fly like that, but he supposes that it might be easier for them, given the design of their wings.

The two men in the picture don’t appear to be twins like them, however. He is not sure what to make of the composition, but the attention to detail in the artwork is admittedly impressive. The title dubs the book “[ Hades x Persephone: A dark and sensual BL tale](https://twitter.com/Unitywastaken/status/1161814686763036672).” He knows what most of the words mean, although he does not quite understand the non sequitur use of “x” in the middle of a sentence, and the abbreviation “BL” is meaningless to him. Curious, he picks up the book and flips it over to the page it had been left open to.

His eyebrows raise higher and higher the more he takes in of the images displayed on the pages. It seems he was right in assuming this was a book of the “graphic novel” type that some skydwellers liked to read, with the overall narrative being told using illustrated images rather than prose. He is not sure what he expected from such a book, but it seems he still has a lot to learn about skydweller culture, especially what they consider entertainment, because the contents of the pages are quite a shock. He certainly had opened the book in the middle of a sequence of events that sorely requires greater context. He flips back several pages to try to find out what in the plot had lead the author to decide upon including a full two-page spread of the characters, apparently dubbed “Hades” and “Kore”, engaging quite vigorously in what appears to be-

“Oh hey Sandy, I didn’t expect to see you out here!” a voice interrupts his reading.

He looks up to see Captain Djeeta waving and smiling cheerfully at him. He regards her appraisingly, rather impressed at her ability to look so alert in the mornings when it seems many of her fellow skyfarers sorely lack such a strength. “Good morning,” he nods pleasantly at her. “Lucifer-sama and I were planning on partaking in our morning coffee outside today.”

“The weather really is perfect for that today,” she enthuses. “I see you’re putting those books the others got you to good use too, eh?” she inclines her head at the stack sitting beside him on the table.

Sandalphon nods. “Yes. Please accept my thanks once again to you and the crew for providing such supplies.”

Djeeta grins at him. “It’s no problem at all! In fact, I’m kinda relieved that you and Lucifer can finally take a break to go sightseeing after working your butts off for the past, what, two millennia?”

Sandalphon frowns. He isn’t sure he would count his own sojourn in Pandemonium as “working his butt off,” especially when compared to how Lucifer had spent those 2000 years, that he had wasted stewing in his own resentment and feelings of inferiority, defending the sky realm whilst not letting his guard down so as not to be done away with by sinister forces. She is right about one thing, though. After all that he had been through, Lucifer certainly deserves a real “vacation,” as the skydwellers would say.

“Anyway, speaking of books, have you seen a book lying around here somewhere? I thought I left it here but….”

Ah, so this book is indeed Captain Djeeta’s. He should have suspected such an outcome from the beginning.

“Oh, you mean this?” Sandalphon questions, holding up the book.

 

Djeeta feels the smile on her face freeze. Sandalphon. Found. The. Book. He innocently dangles it in his hand, apparently blissfully unaware that it is in fact a rather sordid pornographic novel that she had been borrowing from Gran. _Oh gods, what page did I leave it open on?_ She thinks faintly. _I hope it wasn’t-_

“The artwork doesn’t seem half bad,” Sandalphon announces, flipping casually through some of the pages.

_No, don’t do that! Don’t look at it!_

“However, I’m not sure I understand these scenes-” He holds it open to-

Djeeta’s feels heat rush across her face. That Scene. The one she had stopped on and then foolishly left the book marked at out in the open where any wandering primarch might be liable to see. Well, it’s not like he doesn’t know what sex is… but still, this is still massively embarrassing. Especially since that book catered to some very… particular tastes. Why did it seem like she always ended up in these situations with their resident archangels? At least it is just Sandalphon right now. He already probably has no respect left for her, so she can’t possibly sink any lower. Lucifer on the other hand… she would rather _die_ than have sweet, precious Lucifer find out the kind of filth she reads in the spare time.

As though the gods are laughing at her, at that moment, Lucifer appears around the corner. He is carrying a set of coffee cups and a pitcher of water from the kitchen.

“What is it you do not understand?” He questions curiously, looking between Sandalphon and Djeeta. Apparently, he had overheard the tail end of their conversation.

“Ah, it is this book that belongs to the Captain-” Sandalphon turns to show the book to Lucifer.

That is when Djeeta darts forward, snatches the book out of Sandalphon’s hand, and hurls it overboard with all her strength.

Both the primarchs stiffen, clearly surprised. She can see their eyes dart between her and the edge of the railing, as though they are wondering whether they should dive off the ship to retrieve the book.

“Why did you do that?” Lucifer asks after a moment.

“Um! I was actually planning on throwing that out you see!” Djeeta fumbles. _Sorry, Gran. I’ll buy you another one the next time we find a bookstore._

“Really?” Sandalphon frowns. “From what I saw of it, it was a strange read, but that hardly warrants sending it plummeting to the depths of the skies. Seems like such a waste.” He stares rather disapprovingly at Djeeta, making her spine crawl with an unusual level of guilt and discomfort for some reason.

“Ah, I would have liked to have been able to take a look,” Lucifer muses.

Djeeta laughs nervously. _Why are we still talking about it? Weren’t you guys about to have coffee together? How about you do that instead of talk about my porn book?_

“Yes, you would have been surprised by what skydwellers read for leisure, Lucifer-sama.” Sandalphon says. “I had no idea it was common to view images depicting the act of intercourse for entertainment,” he shoots Djeeta a far too casual and amused look.

Djeeta freezes.

“Oh, really? Intercourse?” Lucifer repeats, blinking almost owlishly.

 _Why do you have to say it like that? And with that innocent look?!_ Djeeta is screaming on the inside. This is the worst thing that has ever happened to her. She seriously debates just throwing herself overboard after that cursed book, but discards the idea since Lucifer or Sandalphon would probably dive after her and catch her and then she would have to keep talking to them. She prays for a monster attack, or sky turbulence, or critical engine failure on part of the Grandcypher, or anything, so that she can leave and begin thoroughly repressing this interaction to the deepest, most inaccessible depths of her mind.

Just then, her savior arrives on the scene.

Katalina steps onto the deck. “Hey, Djeeta I was-”

“Oh, wow, really?!” Djeeta practically screeches. “That sounds like a real problem! I better come help right away!” She grabs the knight’s arm and starts to drag her back belowdecks. She waves to the primarchs. “ _So_ sorry, but something came up, gotta go, enjoy your coffee!” Katalina opens her mouth to speak, but one sharp look that says _please play along_ shuts her up, and, wonderful and benevolent friend that she is, she stays quiet as she willingly, albeit with great confusion, allows Djeeta to manhandle her away.

She can feel Sandalphon and Lucifer’s eyes on her as she speeds away.

 

“What was the meaning of that?” Lucifer wonders after they disappear through the entrance.

“I haven’t the faintest clue,” Sandalphon replies, just as perplexed. The Captain’s behavior had definitely seemed off, and it appeared to have something to do with the book. Perhaps she had not liked the contents after all? He knows that carnal relations between beings tends to be a rather taboo topic, or at least, that is what he had thought based on his limited knowledge of skydweller culture. As far as he knows, it had never held much relevance to most Astrals or archangels, with the exception of Belial perhaps. Honestly, he has never spent much time with others, so he is not sure how much he can actually speak for Astral culture or even primal beasts in general. Maybe the Captain’s experience with Belial’s vulgar ways had given her a negative outlook on things involved in that field of expertise? Isn’t she actually quite young, even by mortal standards? He tends to forget that fact given how influential both the Captains are in the sky world, but… to have been exposed to such a poor influence at a critical point in their development… maybe he should make sure Captain Djeeta and Gran really are okay? Although, he has no idea how to go about that. “Perhaps we can ask her later,” Sandalphon says. He decides that he will leave that to be a problem for another time. Right now, he and Lucifer are going to enjoy a pleasant coffee together.

He moves to begin setting up their materials.

Lucifer stops him. “Sandalphon, please allow me. I would like to be able to show you one of the new brews I was working on.”

“Oh?” Sandalphon is very intrigued. All of the coffee brews Lucifer had made them so far had been exceedingly unique and pleasant in terms of aroma and flavor. They were clearly recipes that had been experimented with and practiced to perfection. He always feels a bit of a twinge remembering that _of course_ Lucifer had had far too much time to practice his coffee-making while he had waited in the garden. But, that just means that now that they can partake together, Sandalphon has to savor his brews all the more to make up for not being able to drink them for so long.

“Then I will choose a good book for us to start with,” he says, placing his hand on the stack.

 

“Perhaps we should finally pay them a visit,” Sandalphon muses during a lull in their conversation. They had just reached a part in the book describing the island that Uriel and Raphael had settled on together. “Michael and Gabriel too. All of them have extended their invitations to the entire crew, and I am sure it would be a nice change of pace for you all to speak at length without your differences in rank in the way.”

“That does sound lovely. Perhaps we can go on the tour with them. I would like to know what they think of how the island has developed,” Lucifer says.

“Alright, we can ask them to come with us,” Sandalphon makes a small memo in a notebook he had acquired for the sole purpose of helping them plan their travels. “But try not to make the conversation too scholarly, lest they think you only want to discuss work,” Sandalphon chuckles. “That’s a joke, by the way,” he quickly adds, more seriously. “Anything you want to talk about is perfectly natural and interesting.”

“Ah, but you might have a point…” Lucifer murmurs. “I truly do look forward to seeing how they are adjusting to life as ordinary people, though.”

“Last I heard, they are doing quite well for themselves. I am sure they are eternally grateful for the path to freedom you provided them with. That you provided _us_ with,” Sandalphon says. He smiles a bit, thinking of the carefree shenanigans of the angels of instruction during their foray to the beach nearly a year ago, and how happy they seemed with their new occupations as agents of their delivery service. It has been a while since he had last seen the former tetra-primarchs, but he had heard tidings in a similar vein of how they were relaxing and learning to pursue their own dreams and passions.

“And how are you doing? Bearing the weight of the supreme primarch’s wings?” Lucifer asks. “I’ve realized that I have neglected to ask you about it.”

Sandalphon pauses, taking a chance to take a long sip of coffee to allow himself time to gather his thoughts. He had been expecting such a question to eventually come up. Now that Lucifer has passed on the mantle of the Supreme Primarch to him, of course he would want to know whether Sandalphon has been able to handle such a responsibility.

“I’d say I have been performing adequately. As you know, I’ve grown quite familiar with their power. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to wield them as you did, but with the help of the crew, we’ve kept the skies at peace,” he smiles a bit at the thought of all the adventures he had gone on with the crew in the past few years. To say they had had a rough start would be an understatement, but eventually, they had truly forged steadfast bonds and created many precious memories together. And now Lucifer is going to be a part of it as well. As he sets down his coffee cup on the table, his eyes slide over to the books and maps laid out on its surface. Talking with Lucifer about the bright future that stretches before them, over a cup of coffee with peaceful blue skies all around, this truly is like a dream come to life. He really, truly, does not deserve any of this at all.

“That’s good to hear but… that’s not what I meant.” Lucifer’s words push aside his thoughts like clouds scattering in the breeze. “I want to know how you yourself _feel_ about carrying those wings. Is the burden I placed on you not a heavy one to bear?” A frown forms on Lucifer’s face as he voices these concerns. His brow is furrowed, giving his entire countenance a look of concern and perhaps… guilt?

For a moment, Sandalphon worries that Lucifer is thinking it was a mistake to have given him the mantle of the supreme primarch. Had he failed in some fundamental way he had neglected to account for? Is he not living up to expectations? He could never match the excellence with which Lucifer had led the archangels and guarded with skies, but surely he had been at least an acceptable surrogate? _No stop, that’s not true…_ he shakes himself, trying to dispel the self-doubt that still gnaws at him like a jackal upon a rancid carcass. _Lucifer-sama himself told you that he had faith in your abilities. He wouldn’t think of you like that now._ It is far more likely that he is recalling the cold, empty years of isolation he had endured, laboring beneath the weight of the world with no one to offer him comfort or solace. Of _course_ , even when he now has the chance to live his own life and no longer needs to concern himself with such things, he is still worrying about others and thinking of their pain. Sandalphon smiles a bit. This is one of the multitudes of reasons Lucifer will always be his guiding light. “It is true that these twelve wings are a heavy weight upon my back,” he begins- there’s no use denying his struggle after all. “But with the aid of the crew and the other primarchs, and with you by my side, it is a burden I can bear and will bear gladly.”

“Are you truly sure you are alright? I hate to think I’ve condemned you to the same fate I once had.”

“Of course. I’m not alone, and with the foundations you laid for us primarchs to relinquish our roles to nature, I don’t need to spend eternity thanklessly breaking my back beneath the weight of all of evolution.” Sandalphon can’t quite suppress the bitterness that leaks into his voice at the thought of how easy he has it precisely because of all the strife Lucifer once had to endure. He doesn’t deserve what he has right now, but that is why he will strive every day to be worthy of all that he has been blessed with.

“...Is that what those wings mean to you?” Lucifer murmurs pensively, taking a sip from his own cup.

“No, not at all! Like I said, it is true that I now carry a heavy responsibility, but I wouldn’t want things any other way. I have my purpose now, after all,” At those last words Sandalphon’s mouth twists into a sardonic smile against his will. He once would have spat such words bitterly, fresh pain and grief carved deep in his heart, but now he can say them lightheartedly, and wonder at the strangeness of the workings of the world.

Lucifer doesn’t seem to see the humor in it as well. “Sandalphon, even if you don’t think that way anymore, please do not say such things. You don’t need a purpose in order to be able to live.”

Sandalphon curses himself internally for again failing to assuage Lucifer’s worries. He had just spoken the first words that came to his mind, but in hindsight he sees how they might be interpreted as him being unhappy with his current role. “Yes, I know Lucifer-sama. You were the one who showed me that I can have value outside of possessing a purpose. Please, don’t concern yourself over me. I truly do not think the way I used to.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Lucifer murmurs, raising his cup to his lips and taking a sip of his coffee.

Curious, Sandalphon now takes the opportunity to ask his own question. “And how do you feel about those white wings you bear now? Are they to your liking?” Now Lucifer is the one with only two wings and no god-ordained purpose, but surely that means he can finally soar the wide expanse of the skies and feel a lightness at his back, rather than its crushing weight.

Lucifer smiles softly, gently brushing a hand over his own shoulder as though reminding himself that those wings are indeed there. “Of course, I treasure them greatly, like the blessing they are. However, I can’t help but feel… these wings and this core are too pure to carry a sinful soul such as mine.”

Sandalphon, who had picked up his coffee to take another sip, nearly drops the cup to shatter on the ship deck. “What?! How could you- how could you possibly feel that way? _What sins_?!” he asks, shock seeping into his voice like the flavor of coffee beans seeps into water. His dismay is further amplified by hearing Lucifer speak words so similar to the thoughts he himself had once had about the wings of the supreme primarch.

Lucifer doesn’t seem surprised at Sandalphon’s outburst, but that could just be his natural calm demeanor acting. “I shouldn’t be here. I died for my transgressions against you, for failing to see your suffering in the gardens all those years, and for failing to end Lucilius’ legacy before it could rear its head again. Waiting for you in that garden, that was to be my penance,” He gazes downwards, cradling his own nearly empty cup in his hands. “However, selfish being that I am, I am grateful to be here with you now.”

“Lucifer-sama… how could you possibly think that way?” Sandalphon gasps. His voice comes out raw, ripping almost painfully out of his throat much like that terrible day he had found Lucifer in the ruins of Canaan. Lucifer looks back up at him, worry flashing in his eyes, which only makes the sudden pit in Sandalphon’s stomach grow even more. “You… you are the last person in the world who deserves to suffer for your actions. You never owed me any debt, and even if you did, it would have been paid back a hundred times over already!” He swallows, trying to compose himself. “You suffered so much due to my mistakes. You even lost your life because of me, and yet you still had faith that I could redeem myself. Being able to live freely under this blue sky you gave up everything to protect is the _least_ you deserve!”

Lucifer blinks at him, blue eyes clear and wide. Almost as though they are untainted by all the torment their owner had endured, but Sandalphon knows better now.

Lucifer looks away and it feels like cage bars slamming in Sandalphon’s face, like the labs, cutting him off from that sliver of brilliant blue that was once the closest thing to freedom he had known. “Your words are what I want to hear, and yet, can I really be forgiven? I let you suffer for so long, and many other angels as well. I didn’t know of everything that went on in the labs, but I knew enough that I should have taken action sooner.” His eyes grow clouded and distant as he murmurs, “Azazel was part of the rebellion… and Sariel questioned the purpose of his own sentience… if I had just tried harder to reach out… if I had done things differently….” he continues, whispering almost to himself,  more names slipping off his tongue that even Sandalphon has never heard before.

Sandalphon wonders how far in the past Lucifer’s mind is right now. How many scenes and old faces pass through his mind behind those clouded eyes?  Sandalphon isn’t quite sure what to say. There is some truth to his words, after all. Many others besides Sandalphon had suffered, and perhaps things would be different if someone, Lucifer or anyone else, had taken action sooner. But it is too late to ponder what could have been back then. _I want you here with me now. You belong_ here _, in the present, with all of us._ He reaches across the table and takes Lucifer’s hands in his own, drawing his attention and breaking him out of his reverie. “You know, an individual who is wise beyond her years once told me: there’s no point in suffering alone without changing anything about yourself or what you did wrong,” he can’t help but smile just a bit at his blatant borrowing of Lyria’s words. He really is in no position to be her elder when she already is this wise and thoughtful beyond her physical appearance and demeanor. “I can’t speak for the other archangels that suffered in the labs, but I am certain that you were not responsible for our fates. Even we had our own choices to make, and you were already shouldering the weight of all of evolution. It wasn’t your responsibility to save every single primal beast as well. And in the end, supreme primarch or not, you were just as much a prisoner as the rest of us,” He pauses to check if Lucifer is listening. The other archangel still has a troubled look on his face, but it doesn’t seem like he is going to argue outright, and he doesn’t pull away from Sandalphon’s touch. Sandalphon squeezes his hands just a bit, and is rewarded with a light returning squeeze from Lucifer that sends a rush of warmth running through his veins. “All of that is in the past. It doesn’t change the fact that you are here with us now, and you are free to choose how you will live the rest of your life. I just hope that whatever you choose, this time… you will live for yourself.”   

They sit in silence for several moments. The books lie forgotten on the table and their coffee has surely long grown cold by now. Sandalphon lets Lucifer think in peace, although he doesn’t let go of his hands and Lucifer doesn’t pull away either. He gently runs his fingers over Lucifer’s, stroking what he hopes are soothing circles across his palms.

“Live for myself…” Lucifer murmurs. He gazes at Sandalphon. “I am not even sure I know how to do such a thing.”

“We can teach you,” Sandalphon says immediately. “Myself, and the crew. I mean, just look at me. If someone as hopeless as I once was has been able to learn to live for himself, then it certainly should be no problem for you,” He can tell Lucifer wants to protest his choice of words, but he seems to think better of it.

“If you considered yourself hopeless, then I think you and the others will have their work cut out for them with me,” he says with a wan smile. “But, thank you.” As he speaks, he stands from the table and wanders over to the edge of the ship. He comes to rest a hand on the guard rail that separates the skydweller crew from a fatal drop into open air.

A bit confused, Sandalphon rises to follow him. He only takes a few steps before Lucifer speaks again, an unusually playful grin curving his lips as he looks over his shoulder at Sandalphon.

“I look forward to receiving your guidance… Sandalphon-sama.”

As Sandalphon sputters, Lucifer gracefully swings himself over the railing and leaps overboard. He disappears over the edge and reappears a second later, rose-tinted white wings carrying him up and away from the Grandcypher.

Recovering from his shock, Sandalphon soon throws himself into the air after him. “You-! Get back here!” He snaps his wings open and lets a strong updraft carry him after the other archangel. _Addressing me like that and then flying off, such utter nonsense, Lucifer-sama!_ But he can’t suppress the wild laughter that bubbles up from his throat as he soaks up the sunlight shining on his back and the wind rushing through his feathers, as he chases after his guiding light, soaring weightlessly across the wide blue sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "book cover" in this chapter may or may not have been based on a design I did of [King of the Underworld Sandalphon](https://twitter.com/Unitywastaken/status/1150462936055537667) for a Hades and Persephone AU that I made that is definitely NOT happening (probably).  
> Also, yeah, that's my Twitter. I hope to post more art and comics there soon, so maybe check it out, if you feel so inclined? Thanks for reading!


	15. Paradise Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A question, a wish.  
> Too late.

“You won’t recover from this, so don’t bother,” the hooded figure drawls in a smug voice. Lucifer knows it is true before he even says it. His one moment of weakness… and in that instant this man had pierced his core. Even beyond the agony of his wound, he can feel the searing burn of the dark essence infecting him, the very fabric of his being disintegrating everywhere it spreads. Instinctively, he reaches for his blades. He knows that even if he won’t make it out of here, he should fight back; he can still inflict a great deal of damage to this sinister figure, weaken him so that the ones who will have to take up his mantle next will have an advantage. But… he thinks of the gently humming cradle behind him. Beelzebub had heard him speak, and even if he hadn’t, he is just as aware of its occupant as Lucifer is. If he fights back, that cradle will be his weak spot, even more so than his deteriorating body. In this state, he might not be able to protect Sandalphon; or, just as terrible, either of them could damage the cradle in the crossfire.

But… he knows Beelzebub. He is a being that acts logically. He wouldn’t waste time and energy destroying the cradle if it didn’t serve any greater purpose. If Lucifer lets himself go quietly, the cradle will go untouched.

He knows this may be a selfish choice. The supreme primarch, dying with barely a fight. Chaos will befall the world until someone can awaken Sandalphon to take his place. Even so, how can he risk him now, when they are so close again after all this time? He knows Sandalphon currently cannot see, or hear, or have any awareness of him at all. He surely must still harbor a great deal of resentment and hatred towards him. And yet, in this moment, his safety is of utmost importance- and not just because he is the “spare.”

For Lucifer, the weight of the world has always pressed heavily on his shoulders, but for right now, even that is insignificant compared to the weight of that cradle in his heart.

How can he possibly risk Sandalphon now when he has finally seen him again after 2000 long, lonely years? His eyes are still like dark drops of jasper, much deeper than the sunset shades he had modeled them after. His brown hair the color of the fine earth from which life springs forth, still untamable like the fields of swirling grass blustered by warm midsummer winds, spreading across islands as far as the eye can see. How can Lucifer think of his duty when he had heard Sandalphon’s voice again, that rich and sharp timbre that dipped and rose with his emotions so readily, so unlike Lucifer’s own? Even if that voice had been harsh and guttural with anger, professing with agonizing clarity all the sins that Lucifer had wrought against its owner. He lets his hand drop. How could he… when he had tasted the shards of Sandalphon’s core in his own, so turbulent, and bitter, like the coffee they had once enjoyed together?

This time, he will put Sandaphon first. Above all else, even the world itself.

If only it weren’t too late.

So this is to be his punishment. For failing Sandalphon all those years ago in that shaded garden. Pain twists in his core, deeper and more visceral than to have been caused by his wound. His very soul aches in a way he had not felt since he struck down the rebellion 2000 years ago.

He doesn’t let out a sound as Beelzebub severs his wings with one stroke of his weapon. It’s alright, he has no need for them anymore. He watches them fall, surprisingly bloodless, to the stone floor. They look shockingly small and fragile, like dried-up leaves fallen from a tree. Had they really carried him as he defended the world all this time? They are already pale and colorless, waiting for the next supreme primarch to infuse them with their power.

Lucifer wonders how they would shine upon Sandalphon’s back. The wings had always taken on a pale pink blush for him, the color of the sunrise that he had loved to watch every day. No matter how many times he saw it, he would still marvel at the way the sun softly and brilliantly breathed life into the boundless blue sky. What color would they glow for Sandalphon? Perhaps a shimmering gold, like the sunlight that had dappled through the thin tree canopy of that garden they had taken so many afternoons in. Or maybe a deep crimson, like a midsummer sunset, tinged wine red like his eyes. Whatever shape or color they took, Sandalphon would surely wear them gloriously. And yet, Lucifer would always believe Sandalphon’s dappled wings of bronze suit him best. Would the white wings of the supreme primarch be able to darken to that lovely hazelnut brown, could it capture the spectacular mahogany shades, the warm earthen tones, and the dazzling strip of mottled white streaking across the primaries? He longs to see it. He aches with the desire to witness for himself how Sandalphon will carry those wings.

But in order for Sandalphon to have the chance to bear those wings, Lucifer needs to give him time. Time and distance, away from the deadly weapon of the hooded figure. Lucifer allows himself one last look at the cradle where Sandalphon peacefully resides.

 _I_ _had so many plans and wishes for us both. To love and be loved… even after all that has come to pass, I had hoped to find the answer to that question... with you… Sandalphon._

He turns and flees from the shrine.


	16. Primarch of Vengeance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Hoo boy. I forgot these two hadn't run into each other yet."_  
>  _"Ahahaha...Sandalphon_ has _spent most of his time holed up in his room."_  
>  _It's so close... my promise is nearly fulfilled. And then I can..._

“Sandalphon, you can’t hide in there forever, you should come out and join us for dinner!” 

He curls up more tightly where he sits at the head of the bed. He pulls the thick blanket securely around him, so that not a single part of his body is exposed. He wonders if this is what it had been like before his was born from his cradle. Warm. Secure. Senseless. Thoughtlessly ignorant of the unrelenting harshness of the world outside. He has a faint notion of what that might of been like, a blissful cloud of vaguely warm white, although he isn’t sure if it is an actual memory or something he had convinced himself of based on hearsay. It doesn’t matter. He has spent plenty of time throughout his life deluding himself with despondent fantasies. Another one won’t matter. Nothing will matter soon enough. 

“Sandalphon, please, we almost never see you outside of missions! Just come out for a bit. It’s not good to stay cooped up in your room all the time!”

Today they had sent the girl in blue to make their weekly attempt to coax him out of his cabin and into spending time with the crew. It has already been months since the incident at Canaan forced them into a grudging alliance. He doesn’t know why they still bother. Indeed, many of them had long since given up, and he can even sense the tireless Singularities reaching their wits’ end. When the red dragon comes, it only takes a few minutes of attempting to cajole him out before he begins to throw mocking names and beratement his way; his short-lived sense of empathy rapidly burning out. Sandalphon hates to admit that the words sting a bit, and he only hates himself more for allowing such insignificant pestering bother him. He had been subjected to far,   _ far _ worse from his fellow primals and from the researchers back in the labs. They had treated him as if he were lower than dirt. He thinks what hurts most is that the dragon’s words always come from the heart. Anger or disappointment, it is plain from his voice that everything he says and does is with a complete, raw honesty. He wears his heart on his sleeve, so to speak. Much of the crew is like that, the girl in blue no exception, only her purehearted determination cuts through him like a scalpel through flesh. She wrenches him open and lays out the sordid entrails for all to see. It scares him. She sees into him, she might even  _ understand _ , just a bit, in her own way, and it shakes him to the bone. 

Worst of all, she shows no signs of giving up.  _ Don’t you dare have faith in me _ . He thinks. The knocking and calling have stopped, but he can still sense the all too-heavy silence of her presence outside the door.  _ Lucifer-sama was the only one who ever had faith in me and look where it got him.  _ He clenches the edge of the blanket more firmly in his hands, fighting off the burning in his eyes and the aching his chest.  _ Leave. Just leave me to my childish tantrums. Don’t try to save someone who has never been worth saving in the first place.  _ Don’t. Don’t make him hope that he can be worth saving. 

“I… I have to go now, but if you want to come join us later, feel free!” she calls, clearly forced enthusiasm saturating her voice. He listens to her take a few halting, hesitant footsteps away before she finally retreats down the hall and out of his range of awareness. Her disappointment lingers in the air like a cloud of acrid smoke. It tastes like ashes on his tongue.

He can’t. He can’t go outside. Not when there are so many people. Staring. Whispering. Judging. Not animals, or trees, or even the savage beasts of the Crimson Horizon. At the very least, even if they sought to destroy him, those creatures’ intentions were unambiguous. They were driven by pure instinct, and nothing else. Even when it came to the researchers at the lab, it hadn’t been hard to guess at their motives. 

When he had first joined the crew, he had immediately noticed how… vibrant the skydwellers all were. So full of energy and emotion. Their faces were like a lightshow of expressions, their voices rising and falling with every tiny change in mood. After years upon years spent straining to pay attention, when the slightest twitch of a gray lip or a shift in spoken tone might indicate the difference between a merely uncomfortable examination, to abject torture, to even his disposal, and after countless moments consumed dissecting and assigning meaning to every minute change in Lucifer’s unbreakably serene countenance, he had thought things would be easy. He had already been through hell, through every possible deeper ring of hell, in fact; each indescribably worse than the next- the labs and then Pandemonium and then the cradle and then the cruelest punishment of all: reality. A world without his shining light. What more is there to be afraid of? Why is just the thought of opening the door to this cabin and walking out amongst the throngs of people so unbearable? 

He could easily wipe most of this ship from existence now, if he wanted to. He has already fought by many of these people’s sides during missions. He knows his place, after all. If it is for a mission, he will be at the Singularities’ beck and call for what he owes them for agreeing to help him fulfill his promise. He has even been caught making coffee in the kitchen, and gotten dragged into brewing something for them. It is not an impossible feat. Even natural, sometimes. And yet, other times, it is all he can do to stop himself from rushing back to his room as quickly as he can and locking himself in with the lights off and the blanket over his head. 

The crew, they are just people, and that is at once reassuring and incredibly frightening. They all have their own thoughts and goals and they should be easy to read with their unguarded faces and voices, but somehow they always throw him for a loop. It seems like there is rarely any logic to the way these skyfarers behave. It leaves him grasping at strings, and he hates that. Their eyes on him are like a thousand needles jabbing into his flesh. Their indistinct chatter in the background sound to him like hostile whispers and disdainful sneers, clattering and scraping like nails on the inside of his skull. Just the presence of other living beings all around, their judgement, the hatred and contempt they must harbor, it invades his senses like the screeching of rusted metal machinery, like the buzzing of a horde of carrion flies, like the bite of too-tight chains into his flesh. It overwhelms his mind that has always had too much time to think, turning over and over upon himself until he is left gasping. He feels like he is in one of the cells in the labs again, the walls closing in tighter and tighter around him until they crush his lungs and choke the breath from him. He has been through every hell, but he has always been all but alone.

Still, he has no choice but to bear though it for now. For the sake of his promise to Lucifer. 

His promise… and vengeance. These are the things that tether him to this world now. 

The purpose he had once so ardently longed for. 

How cruel, to force him to live on like this, to protect the skies he once tried to burn when his Lord Lucifer no longer soars that endless horizon. This is not a blessing, or a succession, but due punishment after all. He was the only one who had deserved punishment, though. Lucifer had not deserved to suffer as well. 

His fingers curl of their own volition, and he wraps his arms across his chest. Even months later, he still thinks he can feel the weight of Lucifer’s remains as though he still cradles them in his hands. The growing coolness of the skin, the still-soft hair in disarray, the sickening warmth of blood... he frequently recalls it as he jolts awake in a cold sweat in the dead hours of night. Even the unthinking void of sleep cannot be a haven for him anymore. 

They would pay dearly for what they did. His blades in that despicable hooded villain’s chest had been a decent start, but it was nowhere near enough. He had not torn him apart nearly enough.  _ Vengeance _ . His skin burns. Revenge was all he was good for, after all. It is like stepping into a second skin, the familiar ache of hatred and desire smoldering like a hot brand in his gut. He will put an end to Lucillius’ legacy. No matter how long it takes, or how much resistance he faces along the way, he will hunt down every accessory lab, every secret experiment, every wretched specimen; he will purify it all. And that loathsome Astral and his depraved fallen angel ally, he will  _ destroy  _ them. He would rend their heads from their bodies with his bare hands if he had the chance. He would chew a hole in their chests and swallow their cores. He could crack their bones between his teeth and suck out the marrow and it still wouldn’t be enough. Their names are carved in blood on the divine steel of his blade. He’ll cut them down with his sword, and he’ll cut down anything and anyone that threatens his promise. 

And finally,  _ finally _ , when it is all done and over… he clutches at his chest, feeling overwhelmed by the burning heat of his rage.  _ Finally _ , at long last, his blade will find its mark in his heart. 

_ I’ll be with you soon, Lucifer-sama _ . 


	17. Festival and love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer festival and living a little more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, Unity here. I'd like to thank everyone for reading this far and all those who took the time to leave kudos or leave a comment! Your responses and kind words mean a lot to me, and it seems silly, but I treasure all of them. To think, that people out there are enjoying my writing and it means something to them as well...! 
> 
> Thank you to sealion for proofreading this chapter!
> 
> Please enjoy!

Sandalphon and Lucifer lean over the edge of the upper deck, gazing down at the scene coming into view below them. On the edge of the island, the carnival grounds are a bright splash of color against the otherwise plain backdrop of gray stone buildings that make up the town. Tents made of cloth dyed in deep, radiant shades seem to pop up from out of nowhere amidst teetering carnival rides packed with cheering and screaming patrons. Flashing lights, and the clamor of caterwauling music and bustling conversation somehow merge together to exude an overarching air of merriment. 

“You two excited to go down there?” Gran’s voice interrupts their observation. 

“Yes, very much so,” Lucifer replies. “It is even livelier than I imagined from just the brochure we looked at.”

Sandalphon just grunts in agreement, feeling unable to tear his eyes away from the clamor. He doesn’t particularly look forward to being walled in with a crowd, and the loud sounds and colors and lights seem far too high-strung for his liking. However, he can’t deny the thrum of excitement that vibrates through him at the thought of melding in with the revelry taking place. Soon, he and Lucifer will explore that festival together. They no longer need to sneak away and listen from the sidelines, their meetings a hushed secret at the borderlines of the festivities. This isn’t _that_ festival, but the sentiment is still there. 

“Geez, now I feel bad for asking you two to help out beforehand,” Gran chuckles. He rubs the back of his neck, a helplessly guilty look on his face. “We could really use someone who can fly for this though, so….” 

“It is not a problem at all. You have already done so much for the both of us, so we should return the favor whenever possible,” Lucifer replies. 

“Yes, if you need our aid for things to go smoothly, then there is no reason for us to refuse,” Sandalphon agrees. “The Grandcypher has been with us through a great deal of contention, so for us to help provide repairs when needed is only natural.”

“Okay, but like I said, we only really need one of you,” Djeeta says. “The other one can go on ahead with the others and we can meet up later.”

“Yes, Lucifer-sama. You can go on to enjoy the festival. I will join you shortly.”

“I couldn’t do that,” Lucifer protests. “I am the most in debt to the crew, so I should remain behind to repair the Grandcypher. You should go on and take part in the festival.”

Sandalphon is already shaking his head. “Like I said, I was the one who asked the crew for assistance, so the debt that is owed falls on my shoulders. Even before that, the crew has selflessly provided me with so much despite my sins, so I must atone whenever possible.”

Gran and Djeeta shoot each other a look. They have the sinking feeling that this is going to go on for a while if they don’t do something. 

“I mean, you guys can both stay and help out too,” Gran interjects. “It seems like you both already kinda wanted to do that, and it’ll go by faster that way.”

Both the angels seem to ponder that for a moment. Neither of them appear quite ready to give up.

“It was my inaction that pushed you to commit the atrocities you feel you must atone for, so the debt ultimately belongs to me,” Lucifer insists. “I have already held you back from enough. I would not want to be the reason you sacrifice your time to enjoy the celebrations.”

“You have never held me back, Lucifer-sama. I was the one who committed those atrocities by my own free will, and you were the one who gave me the chance to move forward from them. Staying by your side is the greatest honor to me,” Sandalphon argues. “I couldn’t possibly take delight in the festival on my own. Even the merriest of celebrations would seem dull without you there.”

“Sandalphon, I’ve waited all this time to be able to see the sky with you. I would not be able to enjoy the festival without you either….”

Djeeta sighs and takes Sandalphon by the arm and starts to drag him away. Across from them, Gran does the same thing with Lucifer. “Come on, we’ll show you where the repairs are needed.”

The two archangels follow along, but otherwise show no sign of even noticing what is happening as they continue their debate without pause. 

Gran looks at Djeeta and can see his exasperation reflected on her face. _This is cute as hell, but also… it’s going to be a long few hours…._

* * *

Sandalphon has never experienced childhood, but he imagines this might be what it feels like. He can’t help but swivel his head from side to side like a dazed pigeon in an attempt to take in all the dazzling sights and sounds he is being bombarded with from all sides. They pass some sort of tall, pillar-like structure with a massive disk-shaped chassis at the top. The disk is lined with dangling swing sets bearing patrons who scream and cheer as the ride spins and sends them helplessly whirling along in its wake. The bright red and gold stripes painted on the side of the pillar and the twinkling lights attached to the ride also swirl dizzyingly. He feels nauseous just looking at such a contraption. He marvels at the lengths skydwellers will go to emulate the flight they are not born with. 

He turns his gaze another direction and sees a ride he is familiar with, even before reading about this festival in the books the crew provided. Horses and other animals rendered in near garish bright colors bob up and down as they complete their lazy circuit to the tune of an almost gratingly cheery musical number. Children and older skydwellers alike sit stop the lavishly painted saddles of their mounts and sway along to the music. He has a sinking feeling that Lucifer might even want to try riding this “carousel,” and he will inevitably have to grin and join along despite the fact that even this performance in eye-assaulting colors and lights is making him dizzy. 

He shakes his head and turns away, and ends up staring curiously at person selling balloons, which are, like everything else at this jamboree, boldly colored in an assortment of shades. The salesperson themselves is decked out in theme with the carnival, their face painted marble white, eyes and lips shaded in bright orange and red, a massive scarlet wig atop their head and a red ball where their nose would usually be. As he watches, the “clown” brandishes a balloon that is long and thin like a katana. With a chipper grin, they expertly fold and twist it until it is in some bizarre shape, before handing it off to a smiling young girl. As the child takes it, Sandalphon realizes that the balloon had been crafted into a surprisingly poignant rendition of a domestic cat. He thinks that Lyria might like this sort of thing, and he makes a mental note of where the clown and their wares are located so he can come back here once they meet up with her and Katalina. 

He opens his mouth to inform the Captains and Lucifer, but before he can say a word, he is interrupted.

“Hello there, _gorgeous_ ,” a heavy, drawling voice calls from behind them. A thickset, barrel-chested draph is the source of the unsolicited greeting. He saunters towards the group, a confident swagger in his step. To Sandalphon’s dismay, the man’s eyes are focused on Lucifer, and they drag their way conspicuously up and down the archangel’s form.

Sandalphon feels heat flash violently across his body. How _dare_ this boorish stranger stare so crassly at Lucifer. He steps out in front of Lucifer to confront the individual. “You-“

The man steps right past him without a second glance and leans in to leer at Lucifer. “The name’s Baron. And what might I call _you_ , you pretty thing?” The man grabs onto Lucifer’s hand and presses his lips to a knuckle. Afterwards, he doesn’t let go.

Sandalphon clenches his fist hard enough that he feels the fabric of his glove tear due to the pressure from his nails. That’s it. This skydweller should be grateful that the last thing he is ever going to feel with those filthy hands before he loses them is Lucifer’s splendid palm.

“ _Sandalphon,_ ” the severe voice of Captain Djeeta, and her iron grip on his wrist stops him in his tracks. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” she warns, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Sandalphon growls. His eyes are still fixed on the skydweller and Lucifer, both of whom appear unaware of the fiery glare he sends their direction. He could easily pull out of the Captain’s grasp. He could easily level this entire festival, or even the whole island they are on, and there wouldn’t be a thing anyone in the sky could do about it. It would be as simple as flying. He almost jerks out of her grasp to march over and give that insolent skydweller a first-hand lesson on how much strength he holds right now, but something gives him pause. It is the first time in a while that he has seriously considered how much power he currently holds. He has spent plenty of time pondering the responsibility and the weight of the twelve wings at his back, but he had barely spared a thought to just how much sway it could now give him over the course of the sky. He can feel the energy bubbling beneath his skin like a water in a boiling kettle, white-hot and ready to unleash blessings or Armageddon at his beck and call. The islands falling, or Pandemonium shaking, even the Avatar’s roar, would seem puny compared to what he is capable of now. The power he holds at this moment is dizzying in its catastrophic potential. He doesn’t even need a miniscule fraction of it all to completely erase one draph, or a dozen.

Which is precisely why he can’t afford to lose control, especially over something as petty as a rude skydweller, and _especially_ not in front of Lucifer.

With a great amount of effort, and more self-restraint than he ever thought he could possibly possess, he forces himself to relax and unclench his fists. He will simply tell this skydweller to leave them alone, using his words like any other person, rather than a world-rending power.

Lucifer currently stands where they had stopped, not shying away but also not making any move to follow the insistent man. He gently, but firmly pulls his hand out from the skydweller’s grasp, a nonplussed expression on his face. “I’m not sure-”

“We aren’t interested in associating with you, so if you would kindly scamper off and leave us alone, that would be excellent,” Sandalphon cuts in, shoving himself partially in front of Lucifer to keep the skydweller from trying to grab for him again. He hates how he has to crane his head upwards to look the draph in the eye. The man is even taller than Lucifer, which also annoys Sandalphon, although he isn’t sure why.

The man looks down his nose at Sandalphon. “Oh, and who might _you_ be, little sparrow? Are you his guard dog?” he sneers disparagingly. “Though by the looks of those tiny twig arms and that face of yours, you’d be more of a stray _mutt_ ,” he says with a toothy smirk.

Sandalphon opens his mouth to give a biting retort, when he is distracted by the feel of a strong arm wrapping around his shoulder and pulling him against a warm side.

“This is my _partner_ , Sandalphon,” Lucifer says pointedly, although his expression and voice remain the perfect image of serene neutrality.

Now Sandalphon’s skin heats up for a completely different reason. Lucifer’s _partner_ . His stomach does somersaults in his abdomen. After some discussion one day, that was they had agreed they were to each other. They had been courting for some time now, although they hadn’t been quite sure what it was to be called until recently. Partners, companions, _lovers_ . He had no idea the sorts of feelings simply giving a name to the bond between them could evoke, but here he is, stuttering and feeling like he is about to collapse and drift off into the wind over a few simple words. Lucifer’s _partner_. He is Lucifer’s and Lucifer is his, and just the thought sends him soaring into the upper reaches of the atmosphere, higher than even that sacred temple Etemenanki would hang had it still been of this world.

“Really? That’s a shame.”

The jeering voice of the skydweller abruptly interrupts his thoughts and brings him crashing down to reality.

“Someone with a face like yours could do _much_ better.” 

“I sincerely hope you aren’t trying to suggest that someone as boorish and dull as yourself might qualify as something “better,” Sandalphon can’t resist sneering back. That this oaf had the gall to insinuate he knew what Lucifer would want just by glancing over his appearance. Lucifer is _so_ much more than just a pretty face, although his physical beauty is undeniable. “We should leave now,” he announces, turning and tugging on Lucifer’s hand. To his surprise, he feels Lucifer tense beside him. He turns back to see that the skydweller had somehow picked up what appears to be a hammer and is swinging it casually as he strolls in front of them. Sandalphon isn’t sure what to make of this. Is he seriously stupid enough to be thinking of attacking them? In a crowded festival no less?

No, but the skydweller seems to be strutting towards a nearby carnival game. 

“Watch _this_ , angelcakes,” he calls. He gives the hammer a dramatic spin with one hand, before he slams it down on a target at the base of the carnival game. The force launches a small ball up the length of a tower, sending it clanging against a bell at the top. The ball bounces back down, and then up again, traveling the tower’s length and causing the bell to ring multiple times before it finally loses momentum and clatters back down. There is some scattered applause and a chorus of “ooh!” and “ahh!” from  some random bystanders apparently observing the game.

He feels Lucifer relax beside him. 

“Oh, it is that game. We saw it in the “brochure.” A “test of strength,” if I recall correctly?” Lucifer observes. Sandalphon doesn’t even need to look over at him to deduce the curiosity in his tone and posture. 

He admits that he had been curious about such a game himself, so it is rather disappointing that when they do find it, they are being accosted by an ill-mannered skydweller. 

“Impressed, dollface?” The man cajoles, puffing his chest out and peering down at the primarchs. “I bet your little puppy dog couldn’t do better.”

Sandalphon seethes. He clenches his teeth together, and he can’t help but imagine how easily he could snap this insolent draph’s arm off between his jaws. He is above that, though. He does not need to use violence to prove his superiority over people like this crass dullard, just like he is above allowing himself to be goaded into snapping back a mean-spirited retort. Although… “Do _not_ call him such disgusting names,” he snarls. _Angelcakes? Dollface?_ Such condescending nicknames….he absolutely can _not_ believe the nerve-! Plus, he does not like the way this man uses the term “mutt” and “dog,” so disparagingly. Lucifer loves all creatures in creation, especially domesticated companion animals such as dogs, so to insult them is unacceptable as well.

The man just throws his head back and laughs, at which point Sandalphon decides that turning the other cheek is not really all that important after all, in fact, given that he is already a murderer, the fact that he is only going to break _some_ of this man’s bones and not all of them should be considered a vast improvement, and therefore, within the bounds of acceptability. He takes a step forward, but is stopped in his tracks by a gentle but firm touch on his hand. 

“Sandalphon, don’t,” Lucifer murmurs, and all the fire beneath his skin immediately extinguishes and drains like smoke into the air. 

Sandalphon feels Lucifer exerting his aura towards him in an attempt to calm him, but it honestly is not necessary anymore. Just those words, in that tone of voice, and that level of touch is enough to bring his rage to heel. Calmer, he feels a wave of embarrassment wash over him. His temper really can get away from him sometimes, can’t it? Twice now he had come close to resorting to violence against a mere mortal who had not even raised a hand against him. He already is well aware of his surly temperament, but he usually manages to rein himself in before his anger blazes fiercely enough that he loses control. In fact, that only tends to happen when-

“Your turn,” the man sneers mockingly, interrupting his thoughts.  The skydweller leans over him, holding out the mallet. He wears the smile of a man who believes himself to be assured of his victory, blissfully ignorant of the nature of the strength of one such as Sandalphon. 

Sandalphon has to fight the urge to roll his eyes. This simple test of strength may have meant something to a skydweller, but for a primal like him, it is like asking if he could bend a blade of grass. He is sorely tempted to do it anyway to put the cocky man in his place, but he doesn’t want to seem petty in front of the Captains and Lucifer. He has already embarrassed himself quite enough in front of them today, so it is best to cut his losses while he still can.

“What? Are you too scared? Feeling a bit chicken?” the man taunts when it becomes clear Sandalphon is not going to accept the mallet. He peers over Sandalphon’s shoulder at Lucifer. “Come on, gorgeous. You need a _real_ man who can protect you to give you what you _need_ ,” at those last words, he aims an all-too conspicuous wink at the archangel. 

Sandalphon bristles. The _last_ thing Lucifer _needs_ is a _man_ , let alone anyone, to protect him. Is this skydweller trying insinuate that Lucifer was so incapable as to require the protection of someone as weak as a mortal like _him_? He opens his mouth to give the skydweller a piece of his mind, but Captain Djeeta beats him to it.

“Just do it already, Sandy. I’m getting tired of listening to this asshole’s yammering,” she complains. Gran nods in agreement. 

Oh? Is he receiving permission? He shoots a sidelong glance at Lucifer, to find the other archangel looking curiously between him and the mallet. 

“Sandalphon, I’d like to try this “high striker” game as well. Can you show me how to do it?” he says with such innocence that Sandalphon honestly is having a hard time telling whether he has even noticed the skydweller’s disdain at all. Such calm in the face of even the most infuriating distraction is truly formidable. 

He allows himself a grin that has no warmth in it as he accepts the mallet from the skydweller. Well, if Lucifer requests it, he can’t possibly refuse, now can he? The skydweller completely releases the mallet the instant Sandalphon’s fingers brush against it, nearly causing it to plop to the ground if not for the latter’s lightning-fast reflexes. If he had been an ordinary skydweller and a lot weaker, he surely would have looked foolish, fumbling under the sudden weight of the heavy mallet. Instead, he grips it easily and steps forward in front of the tower. 

As he hefts the mallet in one hand, wondering how much force he needs to apply to get the bell to ring more than the arrogant skydweller had without breaking the contraption, out of the corner of his eye, he sees the man sidle closer to Lucifer. The grin on the man’s face gives Sandalphon a feeling that he can only describe as being of the same nature as the sensation of rubbing grease between one’s fingers. As he watches, the skydweller grabs Lucifer’s shoulder and leans in to press a sloppy kiss to the archangel’s ear.

Sandalphon’s vision goes red.

Thinking back on it, it wasn’t even the kiss in of itself that causes him to snap. No, far more than that, it is the look on Lucifer’s face as it happens, the stiffening of his muscles and the slight widening of his eyes as he freezes in surprise. It is the way he subtly, but clearly and quickly shifts away from the contact, noticeably uncomfortable, and perhaps, if it is possible, ever-so-slightly _distressed_ at such a blatant and heinous invasion of his personal space. Just that is enough for Sandalphon to lose control.

There is a loud thud, and a cloud of dust flies up around the group. As the debris clears, the party can see Sandalphon standing over the skydweller, who had lost his footing and sits on the ground, coughing dust from his lungs and shuddering violently. The bell tower leans a bit to its side, but is otherwise untouched. The same cannot be said for the ground beneath it, which has suddenly been quite substantially reduced in height. There is no ringing of the bell.

He lets the handle of the mallet fall to the ground. Although, it would be a bit much to say it is still anything of a handle anymore. The wood is splintered and crushed down to less than half its original diameter where he had gripped it. The metal head had snapped off, currently thoroughly imbedded in the center of the over half-a-foot deep crater that had been opened in the ground at the skydweller’s feet. Cracks zigzag their way across the ground in a large circle all around them, originating from between where he looms over the now trembling and whimpering man. 

He kneels and grabs the man by the shirtfront, practically lifting him off the ground. He leans in close enough that their noses are almost brushing.

When he speaks, his voice is a deep growl, “ _Don’t you_ dare _place your filthy muzzle anywhere near Lucifer-sama again,_ ” he snarls, shaking the man slightly with every word to emphasize his intent. He doesn’t say the rest but it is clear as daylight: _Next time the hammer will find its mark in your_ skull. 

“I-I’m sorry! It won’t happen again!” the man yelps, eyes widened in panic as he tries to struggle away from Sandalphon’s iron grip.

He glares into the now whimpering man’s eyes for a few more moments, then scoffs and drops him on his rear in the dirt before turning on his heel and walking back towards the rest of the group. 

He takes a deep breath, forcing his erratic pulse to calm down. He notices that Gran is already talking with the owner of the carnival game, presumably to give an apology and to pay for the broken mallet. And to assure the slowly gathering crowd that Sandalphon isn’t about to go berserk and hurt them all. He fights the urge to pull his hood over his head. He hates attention like this. It makes him want to disappear. “I’m sorr-” his apology to Lucifer is cut off as Djeeta suddenly grabs his elbow and tugs him to the side. He shoots her a questioning look. 

“Let those two use their charm to do damage control for a bit. I’d like to not get kicked out of the festival already,” she remarks with a shrug. 

Shame broils in Sandalphon’s stomach. He really had gone overboard this time, hadn’t he? It is fortunate that apparently no one has recognized him yet.

Sure enough, with Gran’s natural charisma and Lucifer’s, well everything about him really, it only takes a little to assure the rest of the festival-goers that Sandalphon is just a bit strong and full of emotions, but he won’t be a danger to anyone. 

“Well, now that that’s settled, let’s go meet Katalina, Lyria, and Vyrn for some snacks,” Gran announces surprisingly cheerfully as he walks back towards them. Lucifer follows behind him and takes up his place by Sandalphon’s side. To his further shock, Lucifer easily slips his hand into his as the group starts to walk together again.

Sandalphon had been sure the Singularities would be angry with him for losing control and causing damages, and that Lucifer would be disappointed that he had let his emotions get the better of him and resorted to violence. However, no exasperated lecture or resigned chastisement seems to be incoming at the moment. Are they planning on waiting until after their time at the festival to impart a suitable punishment? He would be surprised at the logic of such a decision coming from the Captains, and filled with dread at the notion of an impending reprimand hanging over his head in the case of Lucifer. Well, nevertheless, it will be better if he is able to get his apologies out of the way beforehand. “Lucifer-sama, Captains,” he begins, capturing their attention. “I would like to apologize. I let my anger get the best of me back there. It was wrong for me to use my strength for intimidation and I damaged private property. For that I am sincerely imbued with regret. I will accept any punishment you name for me,” They are still walking, so he can’t bow properly, but he does dip his head in a sign of remorse. “Also, I’m sorry you did not get a chance to play the high striker game because of me, Lucifer-sama,” he adds.

“Are you kidding me?” Djeeta snorts. “That guy was making a complete ass of himself. I don’t blame you at all. I wouldn’t have been surprised if you or Lucifer decked him in the face. Obviously, I’m glad you didn’t, because he probably would be dead, but I was _this_ close to doing it for you,” she exclaims. 

Gran nods vigorously. “Yeah, I _definitely_ would have _at least_ threatened him if I were either of you guys. That was definitely harassment.”

Sandalphon gapes at them. And here he was afraid they had resigned themselves to being all about peace and playing nice. Admittedly, it feels very nice to be vindicated. There’s still Lucifer, however. _His_ thoughts on the situation matter the most.

Lucifer squeezes his hand a bit, and Sandalphon feels a matching squeeze in his heart. “I found the way that man spoke to you quite... distasteful,” he murmurs. “Although I would not have gone about it the same way, I believe you were not entirely in the wrong for “teaching him a lesson,” as one might say.” He seems to almost unconsciously rub at his ear, as though trying to wipe away the vestiges of the skydweller’s slimy touch.

Sandalphon feels a rush of relief at those words. _Lucifer-sama is not disappointed with me_ , he thinks in awe. However, that relief quickly fizzles back into low-burning anger at the sight of his remembered discomfort. He is filled with the overwhelming urge to do something to get rid of the disgusting feeling that must be bothering Lucifer right now. He immediately has an awful idea. Really bad and foolish. But the logic is probably sound. To get rid of an unpleasant taste one often will cleanse their palate with something that tastes good, or so he would presume. If the same reasoning can be applied to an unpleasant sensation then perhaps he could offer to… no, but that would be much too forward-he couldn’t possibly… but now that the possibility has been presented in his mind, he can’t just _not_ try it- what if he regrets it- “Lucifer-sama,” he begins as respectfully as possible, “May I-”

“Sandalphon! Lucifer!” 

“Cifer! Sandals!”

The brightly chiming voices of the girl in blue and the red dragon draw their attention. 

“Look at this prize Katalina won for me!” Lyria practically squeals, skipping and dancing in a lopsided arc in front of the group. She vigorously brandishes a light purple stuffed horse larger than her head.

“I have one too!” Vyrn careens in, weighed down by a similarly sized orange stuffed bear. “She actually won an even bigger one, but we decided to take two smaller ones instead ‘cause we thought it would be hard to bring it onto the Grandcypher.” He flies in a wobbly dive towards the group and instantly smacks straight into Djeeta’s face.

“That’s great, you guys!” Gran laughs. “I’m glad you all have been having fun.”

“Yes, that sounds wonderful,” Lucifer says with a smile. “You “won” these from some of the carnival games, you say?” he looks inquisitively at the toys and the beaming faces of Lyria and Vyrn.

“Well, Katalina won them,” Lyria admits. “She’s really good at that whack-a-mole game, probably because she’s really good at hitting bad guys in real life!”

“Yeah! You should have seen her! She was like bam! Bam! BAM!” Vyrn swings his short limbs exaggeratedly from where Djeeta now clutches him and his new toy to keep them both from falling. 

“Watch it, you overgrown lizard,” Djeeta mutters. “At least try not to drop it right after Kat got it for you.”

Katalina, for her part, seems rather embarrassed at the attention. “You two, it wasn’t really anything special….”

“How have you guys been liking the festival?” Lyria asks. She squeezes the stuffed animal in her arms, all sunshine and innocence. 

Sandalphon can visibly detect the moment when the smiles on the Captains’ faces falter and they both simultaneously shoot a quick look at him and Lucifer. He once again feels a strong urge to pull his hood over his head and pretend he doesn’t exist. Their time so far had really been ruined because of _him_ , hadn’t it? Well, it was mostly that rude skydweller’s fault, but if Sandalphon hadn’t escalated the situation….

Lyria gazes owlishly at the four of them, a smile frozen on her face, teetering on the brink between innocent happiness and the fake beam of realizing that something is wrong. 

“It’s been, uh, alright! We haven’t really had time to do much yet,” Gran flounders. “Sandy beat some guy at a carnival game, though!” 

Sandalphon raises his eyebrows. He certainly had done no such thing, at least in terms of the game’s rules. 

“I guess _beat_ is one way to put it,” Djeeta snickers, receiving confused looks from Katalina, Vyrn and Lyria and an elbow to the gut from Gran. “Ow! Watch it-! But yeah, we still have a lot we haven’t gotten to do yet. Let’s grab some snacks and we can check out some of the rides together!” she grins, her enthusiasm much less forced now as she seems to sponge up some of Lyria and Vyrn’s infectious energy. 

“Skydweller food….” Lucifer murmurs.

That’s right, Lucifer had rarely had the chance to eat food throughout his life. He had spent the months since his return taking full advantage of the Grandcypher’s cafeteria, and restaurants and food stalls from every island they had landed on. Sandalphon honestly hadn’t bothered to eat all that much in the past two years aboard the ship anyway, so in tagging along with Lucifer’s quest to try food he has already experienced a startlingly expansive array of new aromas and flavors. They had heard that the delicacies served during this festival were unlike any in the sky realm. Sandalphon is inclined to believe that is the case with any skydweller cuisine, if the disparate host of tastes he has already sampled is any indication. As usual, he is sure he will have no idea where to start, but luckily, he should be in the presence of some eager experts who will offer him and Lucifer assistance. And he can hopefully change the topic away from what their group had been doing for good. “This isn’t the first time some of you have visited this island, am I correct? If that is the case, give us your best recommendations on what to eat,” he says.

“Oh boy! You guys have never had carnival food, haven’t you!” Lyria gasps excitedly. “You have to try funnel cakes… and caramel apples… and corn on the cob, and soft pretzels-” 

“Corn dogs, and churros, and fried pickles, and cotton candy-” Vyrn jumps in, fluttering excitedly in the air. Both of them look like they are practically drooling.

“ _-and crêpes!_ ” They both cheer in unison.

Katalina and the Captains laugh at their enthusiasm. 

“Guess we know what you two want for lunch, huh?” Katalina says, rubbing the top of Lyria’s head. 

****

“Would you like to try some of mine, Lucifer-sama?” Sandalphon sighs after he notices Lucifer glance inquisitively at the food item he holds in his hand for the third or fourth time. At this rate, he is starting to get jealous of a glorified pancake with meat and egg filling. “If you like it, we can go back and get another one.” 

“Ah, I don’t want to take some of your meal....” 

“It’s fine,” Sandalphon replies. “I’m still not very accustomed to consuming food anyway, so it will actually be a help to not have to eat all this myself,” It is not exactly a lie, he tends to prefer not to bother with food because it doesn’t serve any real purpose except as an occasional tertiary source of energy, although he thinks he could probably finish this crêpe off if he wanted to. He certainly thinks it had been living up to expectations even after Lyria and Vyrn had hyped the taste up to an astronomical degree. But somehow, the idea of sharing with Lucifer feels like something he can savor even more than the rich delicacy in his hands. 

Lucifer peers at him. “Are you sure?”

“ _Yes_ ,”  Sandalphon sighs as insistently as he can. He holds out his crêpe towards Lucifer, like he had seen some of the passerby around them do. Some of the _couples._ He watches eagerly to see if Lucifer will take a small, cute bite from it as they had. 

As he watches, Lucifer leans forward and takes the tiniest of nibbles from the pastry. He watches as his face blossoms into a look of pure wonder, eyes rounded and lips opened into a slight “o.” _So lovely!_ Sandalphon feels like his core is melting. He is overcome with the overwhelming urge to spread his arms and proclaim out to the masses of Lucifer’s magnificence. Instead, he does his best to memorize every aspect of his expression right now. 

“Do you like it?” he asks eagerly. “The savory ingredients in this one must be a contrast to the sweet you ordered. Here, take another bite, there’s plenty left.”

Lucifer gently grips his wrist to steady the crêpe… and takes a massive chomp out of it. Sandalphon swears that he just consumed a good fourth of the entire thing in one bite. _Still lovely_ , he sighs. “Do you prefer this one?” he asks. He is curious to know what type of food Lucifer likes the most. Perhaps if he figures it out, he can ask the cooks aboard the Grandcypher to make some, or maybe he could even ask them to teach him how to prepare it himself. Then, he would have something nice to do when one of those skydweller holidays rolls around. However, Lucifer seems to simply like _most_ food, which makes such a sentiment both easy and difficult at the same time. 

“They are both delicious in their own right. It’s hard to compare…” Lucifer murmurs, a rather intense pondering expression on his face. The thoughtful look is still there as he holds out his own pastry. “Here, try some of mine for yourself.”

Sandalphon leans forward and takes a bite. The sweet flavor of strawberry, banana, apple, and caramel wrapped in light fluffy pancake dances across his tongue. It’s all he can do to chew slowly to savor it rather than ravenously scarf the bite down. “It _is_ very good,” he hums approvingly. He thinks he still prefers salty or spicy foods over sweet, but there’s no denying that sweet delicacies like this have their own merits. “I think-”

“ _Behold! A wondrous tale of adventure, majesty, and true love! Enacted by the world-famous Elysium Theatre Troupe!”_ The booming voice carries across the plaza, turning heads. The crowd mills about, breaking out into excited murmuring. 

“What’s this?” Sandalphon wonders, turning towards the commotion. People are heading towards a brightly colored temporary stage with seats set up in front of it. That had been where the announcement had come from. 

Lyria jumps up and down enthusiastically. “They’re doing an open showing of a play! Let’s watch it, you guys!”

“Oh, I think I’ve seen this one before,” Katalina observes. “But never by that group. Everyone’s really excited, so they must be really good.”

“Yeah, I think I’ve heard of them from somewhere. Wanna stick around and watch while we eat?” Gran asks. 

“Come on, we should find a good spot before it fills up!” Djeeta exclaims. 

Indeed, the seats are filling. It doesn’t look like there is going to be nearly enough seating for all the people who want to watch. 

“Shall we see it as well?” Sandalphon asks. He’s heard of plays before, but never actually seen one himself. It certainly seems intriguing. Skydweller actors performing scenes from a story and bringing them to life. He can’t deny that it’s an experience he would like to have. 

“Yes, let’s. It’s been a while since I’ve had the freedom to watch a skydweller play. I wonder how the technique has changed over time. I don’t think I’ve heard this story either….”

Sandalphon nods. With that settled, now they just need to overcome the challenge of securing seats. He can still spot a few spaces left in some of the rows near the front, but their current position is a significant distance from the front of the crowd. At this rate, they won’t be able to secure those seats. “Let’s go, then!” He announces to the group. Heads turn his direction. 

“What do you-” Djeeta begins.

Sandalphon abruptly sweeps his arms under Lyria’s back and legs, picks her up, and heads towards the seats. “Make way!” he calls. The crowd parts around him readily, not wanting to get in the way of the formidable armored man charging forwards with a young girl in his arms. 

“Aah! Sandalpho-” Lyria gasps.

“Hey, Sandals-! Wha-! The guy’s gone crazy!”

“Sandy, wait up!”

They end up getting the seats.

****

_“I love you!”_

_“I love you, too!”_

The music reaches a resounding crescendo as the extravangely garbed knight and his lady proclaim their love for each other and embrace. It’s a memorable scene, the lady’s many-layered dress shimmers in countless shades of blue as it billows in a gust. Her attire and the knight’s silver armor shine spectacularly under the carefully crafted lightwork. All around them, tangled amidst red streamers that are a luxurious euphemism for the blood and carnage they represent, are a whole horde of the supporting cast, lying splayed across the floor in a caricature of violent death. All those that had been sacrificed during the course of the story to ensure a happy ending. 

 _“So much has been lost in order to save our kingdom. Although I am overjoyed to be with you at last, I fear we have no future together. Can we really rebuild all that has been torn down?”_ The lady wonders in a trembling voice that carries across the plaza. The music tapers off, the crowd completely silent, watching in rapt attention for the ending and the final curtain call. Sandalphon finds himself waiting alongside them. He is not sure what he had anticipated going into the play, but it had certainly exceeded his expectations. This theatre troupe had no doubt earned their reputation, and there was something to be said for a story that told of adventure and heroism, but also made room for the experience of loss along the way. Is this to be a tragedy or a fable of hope with a happy conclusion?

 _“It is true that the path ahead is unclear, my Lady. I don’t know whether the kingdom will ever be the same, or what hardships we will face in coming days. The ones we have lost will always cast a shadow on us. However, all I know is, whatever comes next, we will face it together.”_ The knight’s voice somehow sounds both gentle and echoes grandly across the stage. He offers a hand to the lady, who takes it. 

“ _You’re right, my love. Together, we can overcome anything.”_ The music starts up again, a hopeful tune this time, as the two walk off the stage together, hand-in-hand. As the crowd watches, the actors that had been lying on the floor, the “dead,” cast off the throes of death and rise to their feet. The crowd begins to cheer and applaud. The once felled actors dance across the stage, pausing a moment in the spotlight at the center to give a bow before following the lady and knight off the stage as if the beloved characters still walked with them in spirit. The audience’s calling and applause grow even louder. 

“That was beautiful!” Lyria gasps, clapping her hands furiously. Her eyes are bright, as though she is near tears, but a huge smile spreads across her face. 

“Yeah, wow! It felt like the story was happening right in front of me!” Vyrn exclaims, flipping around in circles in the air. 

“Th-that was i-incredible!” Gran sniffles, wiping a handkerchief across his dripping face. To Sandalphon’s dismay, he and Djeeta shakily lean against each other, opening weeping, apparently very much moved by the play. 

“That was really good. Much better than the first time I saw it,” Katalina says, joining the crowd in applause. “I guess you guys really enjoyed it too, huh?”

Djeeta nods enthusiastically, blowing her nose loudly. 

Much of the rest of the audience seems similarly affected. Sandalphon finds himself clapping along with them. He doesn’t have much of a point of reference, but he had definitely found this play to be well done. He sneaks a look beside him at Lucifer. The other primarch is also clapping politely, and has a thoughtful, but otherwise unreadable look on his face.

“I wasn’t expecting something like that at a carnival! They didn’t have anything like this last year,” Lyria exclaims. “Lucifer, Sandalphon, what did you two think?”

Sandalphon turns eagerly to Lucifer to hear what his review of the play is, only to find the other archangel looking expectantly right back at him. 

“Well, I-” Sandalphon starts.

“It was-” Lucifer begins. 

They both immediately break off and stare at each other in dismay.

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” Sandalphon says. “Please continue, Lucifer-sama.” 

“No, you were already speaking, I apologize for interrupting _you_ ,” Lucifer demures. “Please go ahead.”

“But, I couldn’t-”

“Ughh,” Djeeta groans, dragging her hands across her face. “Why are you two always acting so _cute_? This should be illegal!”

“‘ _Cute_?’” Sandalphon repeats as the group giggles. He doesn’t see how their behavior is anything unusual, let alone of a dainty nature; they were simply being polite to each other, as any ordinary people in a relationship would. 

Now that the play is over, the crowd begins to disperse around them. They get up and follow the flow of the people back into the main area of the bustling carnival.

“Anyway, I quite liked the play,” Sandalphon continues when it seems like no one else intends to say anything. “Admittedly, I don’t have much experience, but the costumes, music, lighting and overall presentation seemed very well done. The story had some flaws, but it was decent given its length.”

“Yes, it was indeed a quite masterful performance. That theatre troupe certainly lived up to their renown,” Lucifer agrees. “I’m not familiar with that particular story, but I found it admirable how nuanced and impactful it managed to be despite being a one-act play. I would not be opposed to seeing more work of a similar vein.”

“Geez, you guys don’t have to give a full professional review. You can just say if you liked it or not!” Vyrn laughs. 

“I’m glad you guys enjoyed it!” Lyria adds. “I would have felt bad if I made us stop and you thought it was boring. It was kind of sad at the end, but I feel happy just thinking about the knight and lady finally being able to confess and be together,” she gives an almost wistful smile. 

“Oh? Do you think you like romances, Lyria?” Djeeta asks. “Maybe you’d like a gallant knight to sweep you off your feet someday?” she teases. 

“What?! I-” Lyria sputters, her face turning pink. “No, of course not!” she squeaks. 

Katalina chuckles, patting her on the shoulder. “No need to be embarrassed. Lots of people just like romance stories. And if you want to fantasize a bit, well it’s not hurting anyone.”

“It was nice,” Lucifer murmurs non committedly. 

Sandalphon can’t help but let out a scoff. “It was decent. Personally, I felt it was a bit heavy-handed, but everyone has their preferences.”

“I don’t know about that, but they definitely took _way_ too long to finally get together,” Gran adds. “It was so obvious they were pining after each other for _years_ and neither of them could figure it out. Romance plots like that are so frustrating!” 

“Yeah, but the pining is part of the appeal!” Djeeta counters. “It makes when they finally get together all the sweeter!”

“I _guess_ , but argh, they were so _hopeless_!” Gran laments. 

“I don’t know, maybe it was a bit exaggerated, but isn’t first love usually like that?” Katalina muses. 

There is a pause in the conversation as, presumably, everyone ponders that thought. 

****

Gran is definitely still pondering when Lucifer breaks the silence. 

“Sandalphon… do you love me?”

Sandalphon starts coughing violently. Lucifer rubs his back as he doubles over coughing, which doesn’t appear to help much, but given that he doesn’t actually need to breathe, Gran isn’t too worried.

“Sandalphon, are you alright?” Lucifer asks, seeming for his part, somewhat alarmed at this turn of events.

“I’m fine,” Sandalphon croaks, as he stands back up straight, clutching at his chest. He clears his throat. “You caught me a bit off guard,” he rasps, turning to Lucifer. 

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it wasn’t your fault at all, you really don’t need to apologize,” He says quickly. 

 Just when Gran is sure Sandalphon is going to dodge the question, he continues. 

“I do love you,” Sandalphon says, his voice surprisingly unwavering.

 Now it is Gran’s turn to freeze in shock. He can practically feel the others do the same. Sandalphon is the type of person to be straightforward about everything _except_ his feelings.

He continues, “I love you, Lucifer. You’re the most important person to me,” he murmurs more quietly, taking one of Lucifer’s hands in his own. It is like the entire atmosphere shifts. Suddenly, Gran feels like he is intruding on something that should be very private. The world outside of the two archangels fades away into the background. “I don’t know if I can put it into words, but when I’m with you, I feel like I want to unmake the world and remake it again, but with even more splendor, all in your name,” he says. He bites his lip, seemingly suddenly nervous after such a candid confession.

Lucifer just gazes back at him. 

Sandalphon chuckles a bit. “I know it makes no sense. I’m just talking nonsense. But I’ve realized. My love for you defies logic and rationality.”

Gran feels a tap on his elbow. He turns to see Djeeta looking meaningfully at him. She has Lyria by the arm and Katalina grips a protesting Vyrn tightly. The intent is clear. Sandalphon and Lucifer deserve to have their moment without the prying eyes of others nearby. He lets Djeeta lead them away back into the hubbub of the festival. 

 

“To love and be loved,” Lucifer murmurs, so quietly that Sandalphon almost isn’t sure whether he was meant to hear it. But then Lucifer looks at him and all his doubts vanish like smoke in the wind. There is something almost vulnerable in the open expression Lucifer wears, in the downward slope of his brow and the slight twitch of his soft lips. It makes Sandalphon want to unleash his wings and wrap them around them both, because such an expression is too precious to simply be exposed to the world. 

It doesn’t matter that Lucifer doesn’t need protecting, Sandalphon still wants to hold him and guard him from all the bad things in this world. Every fiber of his being cries for it, and if this irrational feeling isn’t love then he doesn’t know what is. Before he can think about it, he reaches his hands up to cradle Lucifer’s face. Lucifer’s eyes widen slightly in surprise, but he shows no signs of wanting to pull away, and even leans into the touch. Sandalphon pulls him close until their foreheads are nearly touching. He wants to cocoon them both in a sanctuary made from his aura and wings, and he would if they weren’t surrounded by skydwellers that would panic upon seeing a primal beast use his power. Instead, he settles for softly stroking his fingers through Lucifer’s silken hair. He brushes a long strand that falls across Lucifer’s eyes out of the way and tucks it behind his ear. “Lucifer-sama…”

“I thought that love was something that was beyond primal beasts such as us. But… I think I was too hasty in my assessment,” Lucifer continues. He reaches out to cup Sandalphon’s cheek, his touch as light as a feather, as though he is afraid Sandalphon might shatter in his hands like glass. “Will you teach me all that you have learned about this “love” of yours?” _Will you teach me how to feel “love?”_ is the unspoken question beneath his words. 

Sandalphon has to smile a bit at that. “Oh, Lucifer-sama, how sorely you underestimate yourself,” he chuckles, rubbing his thumb over the other archangel’s cheek. At Lucifer’s confused look, he laughs gently again. “ _You_ were the one who showed me what it means to love. _You_ taught me how to open my heart to the beauty of the world, and to the beauty in other people. Do you seriously still think you are incapable of such an act when to me and countless others, everything you have done your whole life has been an embodiment of “love?””

Lucifer stares at him with eyes as wide and boundless as the blue sky. “I… don’t think I understand,” he whispers. Sandalphon can feel Lucifer’s hand tremble slightly against his cheek, and he remembers that this is still all so new to him. Being able to live without restrictions is new to him. Being free to form his own opinions, to accept his emotions and feel them is new. Not having his life defined by a singular purpose and being treated instead as a person. It must be overwhelming. It had felt that way to Sandalphon once. 

“It’s okay. That’s okay,” Sandalphon murmurs. He carefully cups the back of Lucifer’s neck and gently tugs him into an embrace. “You _will_ understand one day. And we’ll support you the whole way.” He feels Lucifer’s arms wrap around him, his hands brushing over his back tentatively at first, then curling tightly around him. They hold onto each other like the world is ending, like everything will splinter and break apart if they let go. Amidst the bustling carnival, they hold each other tightly, and it feels both secure and incredibly fragile all at once, a moment that could crumble at any second like a cracked and fracturing tower of glass. 

The hug has lasted far longer than what Sandlphon suspects is a socially acceptable length of time to embrace in public, but he doesn’t let go. Lucifer doesn’t show any signs of wanting to stop any time soon as he presses his face into the side of Sandalphon’s neck, nuzzling a space for himself amidst the folds of his hoods. 

That is more than fine. He doesn’t want to let go either. Sandalphon will hold him as long as it takes, reassure him as many times as he needs, until he starts to believe it. Just like Lucifer had once done for him. 

They eventually break apart and notice they are now alone with each other amidst the carnival. Neither of them are bothered by this. 

Sandalphon holds out his hand. “Shall we enjoy the rest of the festival?” An open invitation. 

Lucifer takes it, and they walk side-by-side further into the crowd, setting out to explore their world.


	18. 000

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 000

How cruel fate is, for the voices of the Captains, the red dragon, and the girl in blue; his dear friends, are what will drag him away from his hard-earned paradise. After all of this, can he still not find peace in the company of the one he loves above all? He had borne the heavy wings and fulfilled his promise, he had fought tooth and nail to prevent Lucilius’ sinister legacy from coming to fruition, surely, the world does not need him anymore? Surely he could stay and enjoy one more cup of coffee?

_Hey, Sandalphon! Open your eyes!_

_Please, wake up, Sandalphon!_  

Their desperate cries are like a knife twisting in his core. They have so little time. He had been waiting his whole life for a moment like this, to speak to Lucifer frankly and without pretenses, as equals, and they got what, one brief cup of coffee over the span of mere minutes? He looks down at the half empty cup. It seems to scream of the chasm of unresolved affairs between them, words that, after 2000 years, still are left unspoken. 

He is overjoyed that he at least gets to meet Lucifer after he has fulfilled his promise, after he finally has something _worthwhile_ to show him, but it is a bittersweet victory, for Lucifer should be there to see it for himself. 

He has so much more he wants to say, so much he wants to ask him. What had he been thinking all those years as the supreme primarch, the cornerstone of the world? Does he know just how _sorry_ Sandalphon is for never seeing his suffering, for selfishly causing the cataclysms that in turn caused his death? These frail and withering apologies that he had uttered, too little, too late- he had meant it when he said mere words will never be enough. 

“That offer of another cup, were you not tempting me to stay longer?” Despite himself, he can’t help but smile, although his heart also twists with an aching like no other. Because even now, Lucifer can’t ask him for what he really wants, just as much as Sandalphon can’t say what he really feels. After 2000 years, the words still choke on his tongue, and they are left dancing around each other, never quite knowing what the other is thinking.  

Lucifer smiles that sad smile of his, and Sandalphon’s heart splinters. _Please, tell me to stay_ , he wants to say, as he stares into Lucifer’s eyes. _Tell me you want me here, that you want me to turn my back on the sky so I can be with you._ But Lucifer would never say such a thing, for he is too selfless to ask of something for himself. He would never knowingly tell Sandalphon to allow himself to die. Not when he cares about- no- _loves_ ( _my solace_ ) Sandalphon enough to want him to experience for himself that vast blue sky that he also loves with all his heart. And Sandalphon is not so selfish as to ask him to make that choice, to put everyone else before him, as he always has. So he will choose for him, and he will turn away from his guiding light to return to the world that is so cold and cruel, but whose blue sky he has also come to love. 

“The heart is a bundle of contradictions,” Lucifer merely replies, his voice and expression the picture of perfectly crafted serenity. 

Once, that may have fooled Sandalphon, but he knows better now, he knows that surely it is costing Lucifer immeasurably to pretend he is not silently railing and writhing against the fate that bears down upon them like the inexorable blade of a guillotine.

So he forces out a laugh and more joking banter. He will also pretend, biting down on his sorrow with clenched teeth bared in the facade of a smile.

_Come with me_ . He wants to say. _There is no reason for you to stay here, a caged bird with no wings_ . This garden reminds him chillingly of the cradle he had been imprisoned in for both a year and an eternity. Surely this place, “a first and last stop for all souls,” as Lucifer had put it, would not be anything like that hell, would it? Whiling away alone in that prison painted as an idyllic hamlet, his mind slowly fraying underneath that perpetual picturesque day that burned him like hot iron, how could he knowingly leave Lucifer to such a terrible fate? _Come with me_ , his soul cries. And yet, he cannot say these words either. How can he ask Lucifer to return, when he has no body, no core to return to? If there was a way for him to come back, he would have already. It would only be another cruelty for Sandalphon to dangle an unattainable freedom in front of him, only to snatch it away when he inevitably turns to leave. So many unspoken words between them, and he must leave them still unspoken. 

His mind scrambles desperately for something, _anything_ that he can leave Lucifer with that is good, and free of pain. He doesn’t know how long it will be until they see each other again, or how Lucifer will fare trapped here. He has to leave him with something that he will be able to think back fondly on, so when the empty days stretch into weeks and months and years of solitude, he will still be able to hold on to at least one happy memory and promise. 

“You might find yourself growing restless, I suggest cultivating the coffee trees,” he stalls, thinking back on his time in the cradle. That at least had brought him a small comfort for the most part.

“I’ll give that a try,” Lucifer replies patiently. He seems to understand that Sandalphon needs this. 

They both need this. 2000 years and running of words left unspoken because they need something good to hold onto, for who knows how long? Perhaps another 2000 years will come to pass before they can see each other again. 

 

_You are and always shall be my solace._

 

_And you will always be my guiding light_.

 

_Then, I shall offer you solace, this one last time_ , he thinks. Once last promise between the two of them.

“I’m going out for a bit!” It takes him three tries, but he finally gets it, he smiles with all the joy he had felt upon meeting Lucifer again like this, and all the agony of needing to part with him once again. He finally has the strength to leave. 

“I’ll be waiting.”

He has to turn away almost immediately after those words, so Lucifer will not see the hot tears stinging his eyes. He thrusts out his wings and takes off, letting the wind whisk the drops away. He knows that if he waits any longer, he will never be able to leave. 

 

_Until we meet again…_

 

_...Lucifer…._

 


	19. First Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First time in the snow together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, sorry for the long wait. Was writer's blocked for 3 months. Anyway, I may be nearly dead, but this fic sure isn't, so enjoy!

Serene, endless white, as far as the eye can see. It smothers the bony fingers of bare tree branches, coats spiny evergreen trees, and rounds out rolling hills with its downy white blanket. The sky above is a washed-out gray, spilling out an unending stream of crystalline flakes. If he lets his eyes unfocus, he can blur the boundary between earth and heavens until it is lost to the ceaseless white. The only splash of color are the columns of black evergreens on the hillside, standing silent and snow-capped like a petrified army of giants. He stands still alongside them, keeping sentinel. Watching the nonexistent horizon line, waiting, he supposes, for the sun to emerge from behind the fortress of clouds and shatter the silence. He waits until his fingers and toes go numb, and his cheeks are brushed raw by the cold. The snow piles up on his shoulders and on top of his hood, weighing him down like a thick second coat. Every once in a while, a small draft sends flakes darting into the nooks and crannies in his armor, hurling themselves onto every inch of exposed skin they can weasel themselves into. The expiring snowflakes run like tears down his neck and steal the warmth from his body.

He becomes aware of movement and voices from around him in the distance, but he ignores them in favor of his silent vigil. He wants to inundate himself in this strange, frigid peace that the tranquil snowscape encompasses him in. He is a marble statue, like the ones that had dotted that garden, suspended in time as snowfall entombs him beneath a silent shroud. He can recall now that day, with a clarity as sharp as the crisp air that stings his lungs with every breath; the empty coffee cups he had set up vanishing into rounded, indistinguishable lumps on the buried table, the way he had waited beneath the downpour until his wings grew stiff and ached from the weight of the snow. Time had drizzled away like the white wisps of his breath in the wind; the cold had numbed him until he forgot his anticipation, until he forgot the dull throbbing in his core, until he forgot his cumbersome waiting and only saw the beauty of the frost-bleached landscape.

“Sandy!” A loud call shatters the silence and breaks him from his reverie.

“What is it-” he begins to turn to address his Captain’s shout, when suddenly, an explosion of cold bursts across the back of his neck. He immediately spins around, clasping a hand to his now snow-splattered hood, spraying flakes in a flurry around him. “What the _hell_ was that?” he growls when he locks eyes with the culprit: a red-faced and laughing Djeeta.

“You were standing still over there for such a long time, I had to check if you had fallen asleep on your feet!” she giggles, body shaking violently enough that some of the snowballs she cradles against her body slip out from her grasp and tumble uselessly to the ground.

“That’s ridiculous,” Sandalphon scoffs, only to whip his arm in front of his face in a hasty block as another snowball comes hurtling towards him. It bursts against his arm, showering him in cold pinpricks. “And _what_ , pray tell, was that supposed to be for?”

“Just checking that you were still paying attention!” Djeeta wheezes. She is now doubled over, laughing so hard that she seems to be having trouble staying on her feet. Several more snowballs slip from her arms and fall to their doom on the ground.

Sandalphon scowls at her and shakes his head, but a reflexive twitch of the lips tells him that he is close to smiling himself.

“Sandalphon!”

They both turn to see Lyria waddling towards them through swaths of snow that reach above her knees. She is decked out in a thick brown coat and pants that nearly triple her circumference, as well as a colorful wool scarf, and fur-tipped snow boots. The fur-lined hood does a commendable job containing her curtain of blue locks, which looks like it might have once been twisted into a loose bun by Djeeta or one of the other crew members, but had since deteriorated into a vague yarn ball of hair. Her cheeks are bright and flushed a rosy tint, and it seems like she can barely walk in her heavily bundled layers.

Despite the vague feeling of concern that bubbles up when he watches her stumble for the third time, Sandalphon feels a wave of approval wash over him at the sight of her attire. He is glad whoever had dressed her had finally taken into account the weather conditions instead of letting her run around willy-nilly in nothing but a thin white dress, and barefoot at that.

“We’re having a snowball fight!” Lyria gasps, waving at the two of them as she clumsily skids to a stop. “Djeeta and I came to ask if you want to join in!” her eyes sparkle like fragments of ice as she peers at Sandalphon.

He feels the twitch begin to curve into a full-blown, indulgent smile at the sight of her. “I would like to, but-”

“Think fast!”

Sandalphon slaps away another snowball that flies directly at his face. Lyria squeaks and ducks and Djeeta laughs as they are all showered with flecks of snow.

“Nice throw!” Vyrn crows, looping around in the air to slap Gran’s outstretched palm with his tail before he lands on Sandalphon’s head, much to the latter’s annoyance. “So is Sandalface here going to join the crew snowball fight?”

While Lyria’s pleading face had been very close to winning him over, Sandalphon had been hoping to find Lucifer and enjoy their first snow together away from the hubbub of the rest of the crew. He huffs and detaches Vyrn from the top of his head with a shooing motion. “As ‘fun’ as that sounds, I have other plans that don’t involve engaging in such childish antics-” Just then, he turns to make direct eye contact with a half-crouched Lucifer, who had just made his way to the scene.

His shoulders are slightly hunched as he tries to contain the massive armful of snowballs in his grasp. He immediately freezes in place, like a youth caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“I retract my former statement,” Sandalphon quickly amends.

“I thought I could give this ‘snowball fight’ I was informed about by the crew a try,” Lucifer explains at the same time.

“I see,” Sandalphon replies.

The two primarchs stare at each other for a beat longer. The others also watch, Lyria hopping excitedly from toe-to-toe and Vyrn mimicking the action on Gran’s shoulders, much to the latter’s amusement.

Lucifer softly lobs a snowball at Sandalphon, and the group watches as it bursts against the center of his breastplate with a quiet _thunk_. Snow particles spray in all directions. Sandalphon blinks frosty flecks of white out of his eyelashes.

Another beat passes before Sandalphon abruptly veers around on his heel and sprints off in the opposite direction, with Lucifer hot on his tail, pelting him with a merciless barrage of snowballs.

“Snowfall fight start!” Gran hollers at the top of his lungs, before he turns and slams a fistful of snow directly in Djeeta’s face, at the exact same time that she grabs his shirt and dumps her remaining snowballs down his front.

The two primarchs leave their yelling and screaming Captains and company behind as they bulldoze a path through the snow towards a field where the rest of the crew prep for battle. Sandalphon ducks and weaves, darting down quickly to claw together some ammo as he tries to avoid Lucifer’s deadly throws. Snowballs thud hollowly against his back, and he is thankful that his hoods protect his head from the worst of the spray. He is also glad that both he and Lucifer had thought to wear full gloves today, which would serve as added protection against the cold, and to streamline the snowball making process. Lucifer had also covered up his exposed arms with another layer, so Sandalphon is free to assail him without worrying about him freezing.

Continuing to sprint away, he turns and launches a few projectiles of his own behind him, feeling a burst of satisfaction as he spies a few of them strike Lucifer’s chest. He quickly turns back and sprints past several of his crewmates.

“HOLY CRAP Lucifer and Sandalphon are coming!” Someone screeches, and multiple people openly hurl themselves behind half-finished snow-forts to avoid being plowed down in the crossfire.

Sandalphon can’t help but think that they have the right idea, as he catches a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of one such structure crumbling to pieces beneath only a few of Lucifer’s powerful throws. _Sorry about that_ , he takes a moment to thank the wall and the people who built it for their sacrifice as he skids past, gathering handfuls of snow up in the process.

“We got your back Sandals!” Three familiar erunes pop their heads up from behind a nearby snow wall as Sandalphon approaches.

Before he can even question what they plan to do, there is a mechanical _ker-chunk_ , and a mini-catapult sends a volley of snowballs soaring into the air. Lucifer throws up his arms to block his face as they rain down around him.

“This is ludicrous,” Sandalphon mutters to himself as he watches the Lowain brothers whoop and punch the air, apparently thrilled that their contraption had worked.

“Hey!” A loud screech suddenly pierces the air. “No weapons alloooowed!” A golden-haired human leaps off a snow bank, soaring impossibly high above the rest of the crew as she hoists what appears to be a massive fried shrimp behind her head like a club. She slams it down on the ground, creating a shockwave that launches a crest of snow over the Lowain brothers and their illegal machinery.

Sandalphon grunts and braces himself as the snow surges around his legs.

“Help!” One of the brothers cries out before he is buried. Sandalphon ignores them.

As though some sort of dam had been broken, the battlefield erupts into chaos. Snow flies in every direction, and there are loud crashes and bright flashes of light as various players take advantage of their abilities and tools to gain the advantage.

“This is absolutely ridiculous,” Sandalphon grumbles, ducking to avoid a flaming snowball that whizzes past his head.

“It _is_ quite lively,” Lucifer comments from beside him. “Do you dislike it?” Half-melted snow powders his hair, sticking silvery strands to bright cheeks flush with color. His eyes reflect the shifting white landscape around them. He somehow looks like he fits in among this chaotic, rag-tag band of adventurers.

_Our family._ Sandalphon thinks, a wave of affection rushing through him, for the person in front of him, and for the rest of the crew that had stayed by his side through so much. He reaches over and brushes the snow out of Lucifer’s hair. “You shouldn’t let it melt on you, lest you catch a cold,” he mutters. “You need to take care of your body too.”

Lucifer stares at him with eyes pale as quartz and rounded like drops of dew. He sighs softly, leans his cheek into Sandalphon’s palm, and covers the hand with his own, trapping Sandalphon’s hand in place. He gently runs his fingers along the inside of the primarch’s wrist. “Sandalphon I-”

They are both interrupted when a huge glob of snow explodes against the back of Sandalphon’s head, showering them both with flecks of cold.

“Direct hit!” Djeeta hollers, as Gran pulls her away on a sled packed to the brim with massive snowballs.

“What are you gonna do about that, huh Sandy? Your delicate fingers won’t even be able to get us back!” Gran taunts, sticking his tongue out as Sandalphon spins around to glare at them with a bewildered expression.

“ _Delicate fingers_!” Djeeta echoes, cackling so hard that she nearly tumbles off of the sled. The two of them race off, snickering and jeering all the way.

The two primarchs glance at each other for a moment, before they turn and rush after the Captains, intent on seeking retribution.

 

The sun is high in the sky by the time the weary soldiers of the snowball fight call a truce and decide to break for lunch. Blankets and hot drinks from the Grandcypher are passed around to those who had been less-than-fortunate during the battle.

“Lucifer! Sandalphon, um…” Lyria waves them over. As soon as she gets their attention, she quickly drops her hand and uses it to steady a partially concealed item behind her back. It is sinuous and red, and fights to tumble out from behind her as she shifts her weight from foot to foot and wrings it every few seconds.

“You called us?” Lucifer inquires politely. He glances curiously at the bundle behind Lyria’s back, but makes no comment about it.

“Um, here!” Lyria takes the object out from behind her and thrusts it towards them both.

“A scarf?” Lucifer blinks, accepting the slightly lumpy knitted parcel into his hands.

“Yeah! It was Phoebe’s idea, but a bunch of us worked together to make it as a Christmas gift, as thanks for the festival! We all made a section of it!” Nervousness forgotten, Lyria bounces on her toes excitedly as she points out each part. Indeed, a variety of styles and skill levels seem to have come together to construct the raiment they see before them. “I made this part, so it’s a little messed up in a few places, and this part looks a bit weird because Ferry only knew how to crochet and didn’t know how to knit…” After giving them the tour, she blinks up at Lucifer with wide eyes, awaiting his response.

Lucifer silently stares in awe at the red scarf, as though he can deduce the secrets of the universe from within its haphazard loops of yarn.

“Um, I know it’s way past Christmas now,” Lyria titters anxiously. “We wanted to give it to you earlier, but it turns out it’s really hard to create something and to stay motivated enough to finish it on time… we did finish it even though it’s late, so that’s what counts! I hope you like it…”

“It’s wonderful,” Lucifer murmurs, drawing it close to his chest. “ _Thank you_ , Lyria. I’ll be sure to thank the others as well. I will cherish this.” His voice shakes slightly. He runs his fingers over the lumpy scarf, as though afraid it might disappear at any moment.

Lyria’s face looks like she had just won the lottery and been thrown a surprise birthday party at the same time. She claps her hands together and practically springs in excitement. “I’m really happy that you like it! I’m sure everyone will be really happy to hear that once they get back!” She suddenly gasps and whips her head in Sandalphon’s direction so quickly that he nearly asks if her neck is okay. “Also! We were making a matching blue one for you, Sandalphon, but we don’t have much done yet…. I think Morphe and Phoebe just went into town with the rest of the crew to get us some new yarn, Ferry and Lily are still visiting home, and I’ve barely started my part so we’re really, really, sorry about that…”

Sandalphon is aghast. “There’s no need to apologize at all! You didn’t need to trouble yourselves to make something for me. I haven’t even done anything half as thoughtful for any of you…” A sudden twinge of guilt gnaws at the inside of his chest.

Lyria beams and clasps her small hands around one of his. “Well we wanted to! That’s what friends do! Plus, you _do_ do lots of things for us! The coffee shop has been a very fun place to spend time in recently,” she looks up at him, twinkling blue eyes and rosy cheeks brimming with such good will that even a sinner like him feels absolved just from gazing upon her visage.

“If you refuse to budge, then I must insist that all of you warn me before you plan to present me with this gift, so I can serve you each a cup of your favorite hot drink to celebrate the occasion,” Sandalphon huffs, giving her small, mitten-clad fingers a returning squeeze. When she only giggles and shakes his hand in response, he growls and clasps her fingers more tightly. “I refuse to release you until you accept my terms!”

Lyria bursts into bubbling laughter, giggling and struggling in Sandalphon’s grip until her face goes red. “Okay, okay, fine, you big bully!”

“A big bully who you’re planning to give away a very nice scarf to,” Sandalphon retorts. He sighs and fixes Lyria’s own scarf, which looks like it is about to fall off, more securely around her neck.

“Lucifer, are you going to wear the scarf? You don’t have to, but I thought it’d be nice since it’s cold outside and you aren’t wearing a jacket.” Lyria peers up from behind Sandalphon as he continues to fuss over the rest of her clothes.

Lucifer is still cradling the scarf in both hands like it is a delicate baby animal. He looks down at it. “I… I like it very much, but should I wear it now? What if it gets damaged? Maybe I should put it away for safekeeping.” He glances at the scarf worriedly, as though afraid it might crumble into dust right then and there.

“Don’t be silly! If something happens to it, we’ll just make you another one!” Lyria chimes. “Gimme that!” She takes the scarf back and gestures for Lucifer to lower his head. “We made it for you, so it would make us really happy knowing it keeps you warm.” She beams as she wraps it around his neck, tucking part of it underneath his collar. “It looks really good! It matches your ribbon,” she playfully grasps Lucifer’s red ribbon and waves the end like a flag.

Lucifer looks absolutely mystified as he slowly stands back up straight, as though he can not believe the magical scarf is now a part of his person.

“Thank you,” Sandalphon tells Lyria, because he is fairly certain that is what Lucifer would have wanted to say if his consciousness had not ascended to a higher plane as of this moment.

“Lyria! Sandals! Cifer!” They turn at the sound of Vyrn calling them. “Have any of you seen Djeeta or Gran? I wanna head back to grab something to eat, but no one can find them anywhere,” he complains.

Sandalphon and Lucifer exchange a look.

“We saw them briefly, but they soon disappeared into the fray,” Lucifer replies.

“I suppose we’ll have to search for them. They ended up angering so much of the crew with their antics that I wouldn’t be surprised if they were still buried beneath some snow somewhere,” Sandalphon adds, mostly joking.

They later do end up excavating Gran and Djeeta out of a veritable mountain of snow.

“O-Oh m-my gods, I thought we were going to die d-down there,” Gran shivers as they dust him off and wrap him in a spare blanket. “My last moments would have been spent staring at _her_ ugly face!”

“S-shut up y-you moron. T-the o-only reason we got caught in the first place is ‘cause I couldn’t pull the sled as fast with all that snow _and_ your fat ass on it!” Djeeta shoots back, shuddering just as violently.

“You two…” Sandalphon interrupts, not wanting to have an entire sibling meltdown on his hands.

“Oh, _thank you_ for digging us out, you guys. I’ll never take these big, strong, rugged, snow-plowing fingers for granted ever again,” Gran sobs, taking Sandalphon’s hands in his and rubbing them against his damp cheek. He immediately jerks back. “Shit! Your hands are cold as hell!”

“I am wearing gloves, and I just dug you out of snow…” Sandalphon mutters.

Meanwhile, Djeeta swoons in Lucifer’s arms. “My _savior,_ ” she sighs. “Thank you for digging us out with your powerful, shapely arms, and your strong broad shoulders, and that supple chest-” she tries to lean her head against said chest, and smacks her forehead on Lucifer’s breastplate, _hard._ “Ouch!”

“Captain, are you alright? Do you require healing?” Lucifer, for his part, seems genuinely concerned.

Sandalphon is fairly certain that the only thing that requires healing is his Captain’s pride.

“Seems like you two really had fun during the snowball fight,” Lyria giggles, apparently accustomed to her captains’ antics.

“They’ll be _fine_ ,” Vyrn insists. Sandalphon is inclined to agree with him. “Since we saved you, can you buy us lunch now?”

 

After lunch, against his better judgement, they agree to join another round of the snowball fight. This time, the participants agree to strictly adhere to the _no weapons_ and _no powers allowed_ rules, to give everyone more of a chance to have fun. The Captains are noticeably absent, having declined in favor of soaking in hot baths at a hotel in town to recover from their traumatic experience.

The snowfall had continued through the afternoon, and there is almost no evidence of this morning’s carnage left in the field. They wander further out into the snowy hills to gather their arsenal for the oncoming fight.

“Oh!” Lucifer blinks in surprise as a sudden gust of wind lifts the red scarf from around his neck and sends it flying into the trees.

“Let me get that for you!” Sandalphon exclaims, dropping the half-formed clumps of snow he had been holding his hands and dashing off after the escaping garment.

“Sandalphon, wait!”

He hears Lucifer abandon his snowballs in favor of crunching through the snow after him, a gesture that he thinks is completely unnecessary. It won’t take long for him to retrieve the scarf and bring it back. To his annoyance, the strip of cloth blows into an evergreen forest. It manages to dodge the reaching branches of numerous trees, and flutters on the breeze deeper into the woods like a billowing red will-o’-the-wisp. There are too many trees nearby for him to take to the air, so he is forced to resign himself to sludging through the nearly knee-height snow.

“I almost have it!” Sandalphon yells. “This will only take another moment, Lucifer-sama!” He pumps his legs with increased ferocity as he tries to propel himself through the snow, one arm outstretched to capture the errant item of clothing. It seems like it just flutters outside of his reach. He can hear Lucifer crashing through the snow close behind him. Neither of them mention it out loud, but he has a feeling that they are both are determined to pursue this scarf to the ends of the earth if it means not losing a gift from their family.

The trees abruptly give way to a clearing. He takes this opportunity to burst forward and grab on to the end of the scarf. “Got it!” he roars triumphantly, waving it slightly in the air, as if daring his captive to make another escape attempt. His chest rises and falls rhythmically as he catches his breath.

He hears Lucifer’s footsteps crunching through the snow behind him, breath coming in pants as well. He is about to turn around to return the scarf to him, when he becomes aware of where their mad dash for the garment had taken them.

In the center of the clearing in the forest, a massive, almost perfectly circular lake spreads out before them like a portal into another world. The black ice is as dark as an obsidian plate, its surface almost as smooth and unmarred as polished stone. It is no ocean, but Sandalphon has otherwise never seen such an enormous body of water. The Grandcypher would look like a toy ship bobbing in the pitch expanse.

It is a scrying mirror for Valkyries, a bathing spring for the colossal serpent Leviathan, a looking glass perched above the dragon-clawed vanity of the mother of monsters Echidna.

“Thank you,” Lucifer says, taking the scarf from Sandalphon’s limp hands.

Sandalphon tears his eyes away from the frozen lake. “Let me help you with that.” He assists Lucifer in wrapping the scarf securely around his neck, lest it make another escape attempt.

“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” Lucifer murmurs. He nods in the direction of the glacial lamella before them. “I didn’t expect there to be a lake of this size out here.”

“Have you seen something like this before?”

“I have seen many frozen lakes in my time. They are quite breathtaking. Even moreso are the skydwellers who attempt to glide across the surface for their enjoyment.”

“It’s possible skate on _this_?” He has heard of the sport of ice skating before, and while he had been aware that it would require a large, frozen body of water to attempt, there is something forbidding about the glossy lamina before them that whispers of unfathomable depths below.

Lucifer chuckles. “In cold regions, skating across thin ice over frozen lakes and marshes is considered an art.” He lets out an exhale that curls around his face like smoke, and utters quietly, “I’ve wondered what it would be like to try it for myself…”

At that moment, Sandalphon gets a terrible idea. If he thinks about it, the terrible idea had probably planted itself and begun growing right at the beginning of their conversation, maybe even when he first laid eyes on that lake and the immense petrified pool had strung out roots that had taken hold deep in the recesses of his mind.

He takes a step forward. The sounds of rushing wind and the rumbling of shifting ice fills his ears. He takes another step towards the edge.

“Sandalphon?”

He steps out onto the ice. It creaks ominously beneath his feet, but doesn’t break. Seeing that he has not been plunged mercilessly into the frigid depths, he takes another step forward. His boots slide a bit on the slippery surface, but he is able to control his movements somewhat by digging his heels into the ice. All is silent but the low groaning of the frozen lake and the distant howling of the wind over the mountains. He can feel Lucifer’s eyes on him from behind. Suddenly feeling bold, he pushes off with one foot and spins around, sending himself slowly drifting backwards over the ice as he faces his companion on the bank.

Lucifer’s figure looks smaller than usual, dwarfed by the backdrop of towering black evergreens and the endless blanket of swirling white around them. Sandalphon can pick out the individual snowflakes that flutter past Lucifer’s face and catch in his pale eyelashes. He reaches a hand out towards him, palm open to the night sky.

“Dance with me?” he offers. The words are snatched by the wind and sent hurtling along with the snowflakes into the beyond, much like the nebulous puffs of breath that fall from his lips. Nevertheless, they carry to Lucifer, and he is rewarded when the primarch ducks his head in a rather endearing manner, trying and failing to hide the mirthful smile that blossoms across his face.

Lucifer moves forward and gingerly steps outward onto the onyx-dark stratum. When the ice does not so much as creak in response, he pushes off the bank with his other foot, stumbling slightly as he glides over to where Sandalphon waits. There is a grateful vigor in the way he crushes Sandalphon’s fingers in his once their hands meet, and he clings slightly too-tightly to Sandalphon’s free arm as their combined weight sends them slipping out further onto the lake surface.

Sandalphon laughs a bit, a wild, breathless chuckle, as he frantically shifts his feet to try to keep them both balanced on the precarious plane.

“Quite the thrilling dance floor you’ve chosen tonight, my dearest Sandalphon,” Lucifer exhales, slightly breathless. A tentative smile remains frozen on his lips. His gaze is fixed down at both their feet as he acclimates to their new unstable situation, so he misses the way Sandalphon’s eyes widen at the unexpected term of endearment.

Sandalphon is certain that the way his core thunders in his chest has nothing to do with the perilous ice beneath their feet, or the frost-flecked wind that buffets them from all directions. Lucifer’s breaths are a warm caress against his cheek that sends his head spinning high above the blustery gray clouds. “I suppose we really ought to stop meeting like this,” Sandalphon breathes, a giddy chuckle rising to his lips. The ridiculousness of the situation is finally hitting him, and it is all he can do to keep from throwing his head back and laughing maniacally into the wind.

Lucifer looks up to gaze directly into Sandalphon’s eyes, locking them both into an intense stare. The ice lake could have fractured and sent them both plummeting into a freezing abyss, and neither of them would have noticed. “On the contrary, I’ve been quite enjoying these ‘meetings’ of ours,” he states offhandedly. “In fact, I hope I’ll be seeing a great deal more of you like this in the future.” The humor in Lucifer’s smile is warm enough that Sandalphon can’t feel the cold anymore. He is certain that if they stay in this spot any longer, the lake will indeed melt and plunge them into its glacial embrace.

Lucifer continues, “In any case, I suppose I _was_ quite eager to try my hand at ice skating. This is not the ring I expected to take my first attempt in, however.” He glances at the black pool around them.

“Yes, perhaps I did not choose the ideal location for our first endeavor,” Sandalphon admits, a sudden nervousness fluttering in his stomach. A million futures flash through his mind, all visions of ways this could go wrong and would only end in failure and humiliation on his part.

Sandalphon’s whirling thoughts are interrupted as Lucifer takes his free hand and tugs it to his waist. He leans in to whisper into Sandalphon’s ear. “I suppose you will just have to guide me then.”

Eyes wide, he carefully shifts his feet and steps backwards, leading them both further into the heart of the glass lake. Lucifer follows his lead, leaning gently into their clasped hands, sliding his boots slowly along the ice. They start slow, stilted shuffling movements bringing them across the ice. They gradually build up speed as they gain confidence in their maneuvering, starting to truly glide across the ice. Occasionally, one of them loses balance, and there is a core-wrenching moment as their fingers tighten and they cling to each other, scrambling to regain equilibrium. Each time, however, they manage, and after a few breathless chuckles, they start up again, movements growing more fluid and relaxed, steps broader and more natural, until they are spinning and drifting in such a way that anyone watching would think there had never been a time when they had not been able to dance flawlessly across the ice.

They fall into a sort of rhythm together, letting the wind push them in directions, and skidding on the heels of spiraling snowflakes. They glide in circles and lopsided figure eights, and they clasp hands and turn like the axle of a wheel. The world around them passes by in a blur, the wind sucking the air from Sandalphon’s lungs. Stray strands of hair and wayward snowflakes slap his cheeks and rub his skin raw, but the sensation doesn’t diminish the smile stretching almost painfully across his jaw.

He returns one hand to Lucifer’s waist as he leads them into a zig-zig path across the lake. Their boots send up a rain of ice shards each time they change course.

Only the terror that a misstep would send them both crashing down to the unyielding ground keeps him from spending the entirety of their twilight serenade with his gaze locked upon Lucifer’s visage, and even that fear ebbs as his confidence swells over time.

“Orion,” Lucifer murmurs, almost absentmindedly.

Lost in reverie, Sandalphon blinks back into focus. “Pardon?”

“The constellations…”

Sandalphon automatically glances up at the sky. With a start, he realizes that the heavy snow has ceased, and the only flakes that meander through the air are those blown loose from the trees and carried across the lake. The night sky is a dazzling panorama of stars, stretching so far into the horizon that Sandalphon’s head spins.

“We just passed Orion’s Belt,” Lucifer murmurs. “Here comes Monoceros.”

“Wow…” Sandalphon breathes. He can barely focus on where they are going, unable to take his eyes off of the sparkling starscape above. “How can you tell where-” It is then that he notices Lucifer is not looking up at the sky above. He follows his gaze down to the ice beneath their feet. He forgets how to breathe.

“Hydra…” Lucifer whispers. He doesn’t seem to mind that Sandalphon is no longer pulling them along, and they instead slowly meander to a stop.

The frozen lake had become a mirror reflecting the heavens. The sky stretches out below their feet, dropping outwards into unfathomable depths, stretching on and on, twinkling pinpoints like diamonds scattering into infinity. They might as well be stepping across the sky itself.

Sandalphon lets out an involuntary gasp as their boots slide over a particularly bright, shimmering set of stars. He quickly snaps his head back up when he hears Lucifer let out a soft chuckle. His face warms when he sees Lucifer staring back at him with an achingly tender expression on his face, smile as gentle as dawn’s first light. He wonders how long Lucifer had been watching him gape at the vista spreading out below their feet.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Lucifer murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the rushing of wind and the roaring in Sandalphon’s ears.

“Yes, it’s beautiful,” Sandalphon rasps, throat suddenly tight. He manages to forget about the stars for a moment. “So godsdamned beautiful.” Neither of them look away.

Lucifer takes a step forward, pulling them both across the ice. “Care to learn the constellations?” He whispers. Sandalphon matches his footsteps, following him into a lazy spin.

Sandalphon laughs weakly, puffs of white scattering the air around him. “Of course.”

They move together, tracing the constellations out with their feet. They fall in step with Canis Major’s pounding paws, and follow her panting pursuit of her prey, blood pumping through their veins as though they are part of the hunt. She is destined to always catch her prey, just as Canis Minor will always outrun his pursuer. They weave between the two, fox and hound, locked in an eternal chase.

They outbound Lepus, the hare that flees for his life from the hunter’s dogs. Their spinning and weaving feels almost rabbit-footed after that, his small thudding pulse having coaxed an extra spring in their step. They ride down the rushing river Eridanus, sparkling waters carrying a thousand precious gemstones. They let the torrent carry them to the jaws of the great whale Cetus, where they offer themselves in exchange for the maiden Andromeda’s life. They dance gingerly down the beast’s tongue, the taste of sea spray and their spared sacrifice’s tears salty on their lips.

Lucifer whispers the name of each star-denizen as they pass, regaling Sandalphon with their legends in such vibrant tones that he feels like he has lived those stories for himself.

The bull Taurus carves them free with horns like ivory scythes, and they glide along his broad back to ride with Auriga in his thundering chariot race across the sky. The free star clusters and nebulae that whizz past in a blur are their audience, filling the seats of their galactic coliseum. The gleam of copper carriages and the shimmering bronze helms of racers flash blindingly in their vision. The wind rushing in their ears is the deafening chorus of the crowd as they roar past the finish line.

They clash blades alongside the warrior Perseus; they soar over the raging sea upon the ram Aries’ back. Gold dust from his shimmering fleece coat the soles of their boots.

Pisces is a pair of fish, each as large as islands themselves, bound together by a cord. Their scales are the size of round shields, and each beat of their fins churns the ocean in entirety. One hand still clasped in Lucifer’s, Sandalphon pulls them down so they can skim their fingers along the ice as they skate past, grazing the surface of its star-laden depths.

They keep pace with Pegasus’ wild cantor across the horizon. Each beat of his hooves fissures the sky, and waters as pure as the sweetest refrains of poetry spring forth. Drops of saccharine dew dust their faces as they soar overhead of the lizard Lacerta, and glide from heavens to earth down the giraffe Camelopardalis’ neck.

Throughout their dance, Sandalphon can’t help but watch Lucifer. He looks of another world, like he belongs more among the constellations than among men. Galaxies dance across his figure, kissing the curves of his sublime silhouette. When he recounts the tales, passion lights his face, and his countenance outshines even Sirius, the brightest point in the sky.

He is divinity carved from the fabric of the universe itself, he is seraph woven from the celestial tapestry. The Aurora Borealis sings through his veins, comets waltz in his halo, light itself bends and refracts around him, gathering to form his iridescent corona. With every graceful movement, the cosmos unravel and coalesce around him.

_Lucifer, my guiding light, there is_ _stardust on your skin._

He is Heaven’s blessed Morning-Star, and he whispers the secrets of the universe into Sandalphon’s ear.

Ursa Major’s roars shake the first snow loose from the gathering clouds, and Ursa Minor’s answering growls begin to close the curtain on their ethereal ballroom. One-by-one, the constellations fade beneath the encroaching gray, and Sandalphon and Lucifer make one last round of the dance floor to say their farewells.

The fading figures of Gemini remind them that they have their own twins and company awaiting their return. So, they leave the stars behind and make their way home, the last sweet notes of the ice lake’s song drawing out in a resounding ring in their hearts.

 

_“There_ you are,” A groggy Djeeta greets them when they arrive in the doorway to the common room, shaking snow out of their clothes. “We were wondering if we would have to send out a search party for you two.”

“Apologies for our tardiness,” Lucifer inclines his head. “We lost track of time while enjoying the scenery.”

“Yes, there was no danger of us being buried, as _you two_ were,” Sandalphon snorts, much to their Captains’ indignation.

Several other crew members sitting around the poker table let out snickers under their breath.

“Well, now I regret staying up to wait for you two,” Gran whines, throwing down his cards. “Also, I fold! This hand sucks!”

“ _Ssssandalphooon…Luuucifeeerrr…_ ” Lyria’s voice whispers faintly from the couch. She slowly sits up from underneath a pile of blankets, hair sticking up in wild directions, and blinking bleariness out of her eyes. Her movements disturb Vyrn, who groans as he turns over and tries to burrow deeper into the comfortable spot against her abdomen.

“I hope you did not keep awake to wait for us as well,” Sandalphon sighs, tucking in the blankets around her until she and Vyrn are bundled up like a burrito. “You people do realize that Lucifer-sama and I are old enough to stay out all night on our own, right?”

“We…saved… some hot chocolate…for you,” Lyria mumbles, head listing to the side. She struggles to free one arm to point at two cups on the table.

“Thank you,” Lucifer replies. Neither of them have the heart to tell her that the drinks have definitely long gone cold.

“Actuaaally…” Vyrn grumbles, only his snout visible from beneath the blanket roll. “I drank one of them because you two were taking so long.”

“Vyyyyyrrrn…!” Lyria slurs, eyes slipping shut. “How could youuuuu…”

“Go to sleep you two,” Sandalphon sighs, finally trapping both of them thoroughly in their cotton straitjacket. “We’ll drink hot chocolate with you tomorrow.” He carefully lifts the bundle into his arms, tucking Lyria’s head against the crook of his elbow. Turning to Lucifer, he whispers, “Will you please help me get the door once I take them upstairs to their room?”

“Certainly.”

Despite painstaking attempts to be both silent and gentle, by the time they make it to the bed, both dragon and girl are much more alert and itching to romp around.

“Would it help if we told you a bedtime story?” Sandalphon growls, after thwarting their fourth attempt to wiggle free from his blanket restraints.

They both immediately relax.

“Yeah! Aw man, this is gonna be good!” Vyrn chirps, snuggling back into the covers.

“Okay, I think that would help me fall asleep!” Lyria chimes in, settling back against the pillow.

“Um, well…” Mind suddenly going blank, Sandalphon looks to his partner for assistance.

Lucifer is silent for a moment, before he seems to come upon an idea. Exchanging a look with Sandalphon, he leans forward and murmurs, “Have you ever heard the legends of the constellations…?”


End file.
